


Twelve Months

by RiaRose



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Tony Stark, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Snapshots, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Bingo 2020, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Top Steve Rogers, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24445921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaRose/pseuds/RiaRose
Summary: -The story of Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, told in increments, month by month."It's been a hell of a year."
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 184
Kudos: 239
Collections: Tony Stark Bingo 2020





	1. January

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my darlings. Here are thirteen of my fills for Tony Stark Bingo 2020, this is complete and I'll be uploading a chapter everyday.
> 
> Now that this is done, I can go back to concentrating on Ordinary Men! 
> 
> Each one is a one-shot, or a snapshot, depending on how you define it. They all connect to the larger story. Since each is linked, they should be read in order and not skipped. I'll mark the two smutty one-shots in the notes when they're posted. 
> 
> Many thanks to Rachel and Lan for the beta and feedback, to Wilma for the unwavering support, to Jarisalive for the cheering, and to the POTS server for yielding my many questions, my breakdowns, and feeding my Tony addiction. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Also, Happy birthday, Tony Stark! It's fitting that I post this on you fiftieth. ❤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RiaRose - 3136 - A2 - Love or Lust

Prompt: Love or Lust

  
  


It's a brisk January morning when Steven G. Rogers realizes with a sudden and jolting burst that he loves Anthony E. Stark. 

He's sitting on a bench in Central Park, the bare trees swaying above him in a waltz that only the winter winds could choreograph. The limbs are stripped of their leaves and are a deep, dusty brown. Where the earth shows between half-melted mounds of snow is a dull yellowed grass and sticky mud that sinks heels and stains the bottoms of pants. But in the sky, peeking through the naked canopy, the sun is bright. Steve squints through its glare. With his hands deep in his pockets, he watches an older couple stroll by, arm in arm, the man leaning on a cane and the woman dragging an oxygen tank. The sound of the wheels towing over the concrete is hushed scraping and rattling. It's strangely soothing.

They're bundled up, but even under their winter parkas and the hemmed slacks, he can see that they are frail, withered with age and experience. There is still strength there - hidden under wrinkles - and it reveals itself with their linked arms and careful stride. 

His guess - and he's sure he's right - is that the couple are well into their nineties, most likely born around the time he was. Hell, if they were from the city to begin with, he may have even known them. Stranger things have happened. 

Trailing behind is a nurse in a light pink scrubs and clogs. She holds a beige canvas bag and, when prompted, plucks out a tissue to pass over to the old man. He smiles his thanks and gently wipes spittle from the corner of the woman's mouth, his movements gentle and loving.

"Let me fix your lipstick, Trudy." His voice is rich with age but sturdy still as his eyes lock onto hers. They crinkle at the corners, a soft blue that lights up when he looks at her. "I've always loved this color on you." Without being asked, the nurse hands over a tube of red lipstick, and the man's hands shake as he applies it. "Oh, oh!" He fusses and takes another tissue from the nurse's outstretched hand. "A little smear here!" He licks his thumb and wipes before using the tissue to get the rest. "Just perfect, sweetheart. My most beautiful gal." 

The woman smiles, "Oh, my husband always calls me that!" Her voice has a tremble to it, and her hand quakes as she reaches up to cup his face. "Blue eyes, just like yours. Oh, he was so handsome!"

The old man kisses her hand. "Libby went to the market, Trudy, to pick up bird seed. Do you want to feed the ducks?"

"I love feeding the ducks!"

Taking her arm again, he leads her away, his voice dimming with distance, but Steve can just pick up the trails of his conversation. "When I proposed to you, do you remember? Down by the water. And we fed the ducks! You were so worried the ring would fall off because I had bought the wrong size!"

Her laugh is as muddied as the banks down at the Loeb Boathouse after a rain, but still so genuine it sends an ache through Steve's chest. "Oh, yes, I remember." He has the distinct feeling she does not. That this is probably a _good_ day, something he's all too familiar with when he visits Peggy.

When they're at last out of view, Steve sits forward, pulling his hands from his pockets and rubbing them through his hair. Elbows on knees and a rock in his throat. He wants that.

As sad as it is to witness her deterioration, even for only a few minutes, the love between the older couple was palpable. It was ageless. Something that transcends her illness, his bad hip. Something pure and immortal. Something rare that would live on even after their deaths. And despite the cold, he is warmed by it, if only for a one small moment. It envelops him, like a hug or a blanket. A hot cup of tea by the fire as he sketches the man so often in his thoughts.

Closing his eyes, Steve lets his hands drop. When he envisions being that age - and really being that age, not just frozen for another seventy years - the only person Steve can see next him is Tony. He sees them by that fireplace, walking through Central Park, and growing old - and in Tony's case, feistier - together. 

That's when he realizes that he loves Tony. It isn't lust like he had thought prior to this. Not just a schoolyard crush on the best looking kid in his class. Steve knows with a certainty that almost hurts that if Tony were the one to lose his mind - his genius! - Steve would still want to be with him. He would take care of him like the old man cares for his wife. Take him to feed the ducks. For a walk in Central Park. He'd wipe the spittle from his mouth without a second thought. 

Tony is more than his genius. More than his looks. He's kind and funny. Giving and sassy. He's so much more than a lustful want. He's everything Steve could have hoped for in a partner. And everything he never thought he needed.

This revelation would be so beautiful had he not also realized that Tony could never feel the same way. He could never return that love and devotion. He could never cup Steve's face and tell him he has beautiful eyes. 

All at once, Steve feels his actual age.

But the trees keep on dancing. 


	2. February

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony comes to his own realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! I hope you enjoy! See you all tomorrow!
> 
> RiaRose - 3136 - A1 - Workshop Troubles

Prompt: Workshop Troubles

  
  


It's not like it hasn't happened before. Dum-E means well, or at least as well as a robot can, and frankly Tony is far too distracted to blame anyone but himself. He’s focused on the hologram in front of him, and when he steps toward the large tool box to grab a socket wrench, his foot slips off a gas can that Dum-E had put away (and by put away, he means the robot just moved it to a different part of the workshop). 

His ankle caves, and he goes down, right shoulder bumping hard into the workbench. Tony's hands flail out, grasping for purchase, but close around nothing but air, and he hits the floor with a thud and grunt, his left leg splayed out and his right bent underneath him. 

"Fuck!" 

He's not entirely sure what hurts more at that moment, whether it's the pain in his shoulder or his ankle, but he automatically bites down on his lip to keep from crying out again. Dum-E whirls over, fire extinguisher at the ready, and Tony's eyes go wide. "No! No! Not on fire! Don't you da-"

It's too late. Fire Safety Marshal Dum-E is on the case, and Tony is doused in chemicals he's not sure he should ever have skin contact with. "Fuck! Shit! JARVIS, a little help!" Dum-E raises his arm again, and Tony throws his hands out in a sad attempt to stop him. "Stand down! Jesus! Fuck! JARVIS!"

"I've alerted Captain Rogers that you have been injured. He is en route."

"See? See? I'm fine!" He tries again, blindly reaching for a roll of shop towels and pulling the blue roll down from its seat on the workbench. Several pencils and a half eaten apple fall with it. "Go start the shower or something!" He's frantically wiping at his arms, the pain in his ankle building with every move he makes. Dum-E pauses for just a second before dropping the fire extinguisher and wheeling away towards the workshop bathroom. The red container rolls and hits Tony's thigh, a few pathetic spews of foam sputtering from the nozzle. 

"This is just great." Trying to stand, he gingerly lifts himself by pulling up on the workbench, hopping on his left leg to bring his body next to it so he can stand straight. His shoulder is throbbing, but he's sure it's just a bruise. His ankle, however, has already started to swell. 

"Tony? Jesus! What happened?" Steve is at the door, his hand just leaving the keypad as he enters, hurrying to Tony's side. On his face is mixed concern and horror. "What is this?" He gestures to the foam. 

Tony meekly flaps a hand at the fire extinguisher. "Dum-E was a little over-zealous. It's mostly on my clothes, but I need to get it off me." He looks up at Steve, a bit sheepish. "Help?" He lifts his injured foot up just enough for Steve to see.

Steve doesn't hesitate. He scoops Tony up and takes long, quick strides toward the bathroom. Inside, Dum-E's arm is lifting and falling by the faucet, unsure of what to do, and Steve shoos the robot away with a gentle, "I got this, I'll take care of him." He sets Tony carefully down on the closed toilet.

Dum-E makes a sad beeping sound and wheels out, his arm lowered in guilt. Steve spares a second to look sadly after him before turning back to the shower and twisting on the water. He barely waits for the right temperature before he hauls Tony up and places him on the floor of the shower, immediately pulling down the showerhead to rinse the worst of it from Tony's arms. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I think. It's an alternative mixture, and Dum-E wasn't too close. Think I get to keep my skin." A blush is creeping up Tony's neck. He looks like a half-drowned kitten, all wide eyes and wet. 

"Arms up," Steve instructs and pulls the soiled shirt over Tony's head, tossing it into the corner of the shower. He makes quick work of pulling off Tony's sneakers and jeans as well, leaving the genius in socks and absurdly tight boxer-briefs. 

"Jeez, take a man to dinner first, why don'cha?" Tony is ignored, and he's not surprised. Steve is intent on washing the solution from Tony's body, squirting bodywash directly into his hands and rubbing along the smooth skin. Tony puts his head down and allows it. It's better to let Steve get his mother henning out of his system than to fight it. 

When Steve is sure he's clean, he pulls open the skinny linen closet in the bathroom and tugs a towel out, accidentally upsetting the whole pile and sending them cascading to the ground. He goes red. "Uh, sorry, I'll clean that!"

Tony just waves it away, unconcerned. "Help me up?" He holds his right hand out, thinks better of it, and switches to his left. 

Steve doesn't answer. He just wraps a large towel around his small frame and lifts, and now that the situation has caught up to Tony, he definitely does  _ not _ let out a squawk at being manhandled. 

"That bruise from the fall too?"

Comically, Tony tries to turn his head enough to see. He can just make out the beginnings of purple blooming from his shoulder. "Uh, yeah. Hit the bench on the way down."

Steve tsks and hugs him tight against his chest as he wraps another towel around Tony's upper body when he starts to shiver. It's a stunning - and frankly sexy - show of strength and dexterity. 

"Bruce should take a look at your ankle, but since he's not here, I will." His mouth presses into a line as Tony glares at him. "I promise, no hospital unless you need it." With steady steps, he re-enters the workshop and settles Tony on the couch, his legs swivelled to stretch along the cushions.

Tony is visibly shivering, and Steve gives him an appraising look before turning on his heels and walking back to the bathroom. He returns with several more towels and diligently drapes them around Tony's body, leaving only his injured ankle free of the terrycloth. 

"Thanks," he mumbles, looking up long enough to catch a flash of concerned blue eyes. 

"You're welcome." Steve moves down to Tony's feet, sitting on the other side of the couch and carefully picking up his right leg by lifting the underside of his calf. He peels off the soaked sock and Tony winces. Steve looks contrite. "Sorry."

Shaking his head, Tony takes a deep breath. "Nothing to apologize for." He forces a grin, but it's obvious that it's pained.

Steve nods, but still looks a little guilty. "I'm not a medic, but I did my fair share when I had to in the war. Just hang tight and let me look at it."

"Yeah," Tony pants out, trying hard to breathe through the pain. "Go ahead. I trust you." And that's the kicker, isn't it? He does trust Steve. He trusts Steve more than he's ever trusted anyone. He trusts him in battle, to keep his secrets, and trusts him to look at his injuries objectively. 

He's graced with a smile, a small bit of blush tinting Steve's cheeks at the admission. "Okay, tell me if I'm hurting you." Tony nods and braces himself, and Steve gently prods his ankle, slowly and carefully turning it this way and that, before placing it softly back onto the cushion. "I don't think it's broken, just sprained. I'll wrap it, and Bruce should be back tomorrow. He can x-ray it to be sure."

Tony lets out a breath. "Okay, good, that's good to know. Uh, thanks." 

Steve is already standing, heading over to the mounted first aid kit by the entrance to the workshop. He returns with a brown Ace bandage, two Motrin, and a disposable ice pack. "I'll get you some water after I wrap this."

Shaking his head, Tony plucks the travel packet of pills from his hand. "No need." He rips it open and dry swallows the pills. Steve makes a face.

"That's disgusting."

Shrugging in response, Tony leans back against the arm of the couch and closes his eyes. "Do it before I lose my nerve," he jokes, his body tensing as he readies himself for another bout of pain.

He's rewarded with a laugh, Steve's eyes crinkling cutely. It hurts, but Tony stays silent as Steve wraps his ankle. After he secures it into place, he cracks the ice pack and works it back and forth in his hands until it's cold. "Keep this on. I'll go get you some dry clothes." Taking the blanket from the back of the couch, he bunches it up and slides it underneath Tony's foot to elevate it. "You need to be more careful." His voice is quiet, but his words are firm. Tony tries to temper down a blush and looks away. It feels weird to be so cared for. "Okay, no lecture. Let me get you a change of clothes."

It's only after he leaves that Tony realizes how much of a calming effect Steve has on him. That he loves being taken care of. And while he's an adult, there was something about being cradled in those strong arms that made him feel secure. 

Tony blinks, and it's all quite suddenly, blindingly clear.

He loves Steve. He trusts him, and he loves him.

And, by God, does that scare the shit out of Tony. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this, please let me know in the comments!


	3. March

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony contemplates what it means to be in love with Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little late today! I had a birthday parade! 
> 
> See you all tomorrow with April!
> 
> RiaRose - 3136 - R1 - Flight

Prompt: Flight

The thing about realizing you're in love with your male team leader is just that. You're in love with your male team leader. And that's a problem. 

It's a windy, grey morning when he takes the suit out under the guise of testing his new navigation. The truth isn't quite so simple. For weeks now, he's found himself seeking out Steve for just about anything: obtaining lunch, going to the movies, playing a game of cards… Each is an excuse to spend time with him, and every minute he's next to Steve feels like a high. As soon as Tony notices just how pathetic he's acting, he flees to the landing pad just to get away from his drug of choice.

The FDA really should put out a warning for  _ too much Steve. _

It's not until he's flying over Central Park and heading toward Fifth Avenue that he realizes it's Saint Patrick's Day. Below him is a sea of green as people cram the sidewalks, craning their necks to get a glimpse of the parade. They look and cheer as an unexpected guest flies overhead. Tony has unwittingly joined the festivities. 

He feels a bit guilty at taking attention away from the actual walkers of the parade, but since he's already been spotted, he swoops down to a vendor and grabs a green sequined foam top hat and jams it onto the helmet. "I'll pay for this, I promise!" he calls out, as he lifts back into the air.

The vendor is laughing. "Don't worry about it!" he calls back in a heavily accented voice. People are already clamoring to buy the exact style of hat Tony took. 

Still, he says to JARVIS: "Make a note. One hundred dollars to," he checks the sign on the cart, "Pedro's Novelties."

"Noted, Sir," JARVIS answers. And Tony aligns himself over the Nassau County Police Department, waving down at the officers. They're grinning, their white gloved hands pointing and pulling out cellphones to snap pictures. One particularly loud officer yells out. "Hey! Hey, Iron Man! Come join the Seventh! We could use someone useful!" Next to him, his sergeant laughs and elbows him. 

Tony chuckles. "Not ready to retire to Long Island yet, officer. Gimme another year, though, we'll see!"

The officer salutes him, and Tony keeps pace, flying along the rest of the way down Fifth Avenue. 

At the end, he lands, and the officer from before jogs up to him with a man who looks strikingly similar to him in tow. His police hat is under his arm, and Tony can see the white gloves sticking out of his pocket. "Hey, can I have a picture?" 

"Sure!" Tony flips the face mask up, holding his hand out to shake.

"Vinny Mangino," the officer supplies and sticks a thumb over his shoulder to the other guy. "My brother, Gino. He works down on Wall Street."

Tony takes both of their hands before bringing the face plate back down. Vinny's sergeant is the schmuck chosen to take the picture, but in return, Gino takes one of him and a bunch of other officers. He gives the absurd green hat to a female officer who immediately takes off her own cap and puts it on. 

"Happy Saint Patrick's Day!" he calls out as he takes off. 

It was a nice distraction while it lasted, and as Tony makes a wide turn to head uptown, he catches sight of a group of soldiers, all in their dress uniforms, standing outside of a bar called Johnny Utah's. One has a shock of blond hair and a built body, and Tony huffs out at the direction his blood decides to flow. 

Steve. It always comes back to Steve.

He took this flight to run from that, to try and hide just for a moment, but thoughts of the man he has fallen in love with are intrusive. He has no control over it anymore. Everything is Steve, Steve,  _ Steve _ .

He can't sleep. He can't eat. He can't concentrate. All of the Hollywood tropes for someone hopelessly in love with someone unattainable. If he thinks hard enough, Tony can still feel Steve's gentle and warm hands on his ankle, can still feel the solidness of his chest, and can hear the soft voice pleading with him.  _ You need to be more careful. _

Careful. How can Tony be careful when he's already crash-landed into unrequited love? What does it even mean to be so helplessly enamoured with America's Golden Boy? 

Nothing but pain. That's what it means to Tony. Because even if Steve returned his devotion and love, they could never work. Someone like Tony could never be good enough for someone like Steve. He is too damaged. Old, worn, and used. The public loved to hate him as much as they hated to love him. He would never be good enough in their eyes for Captain America. No, this was doomed from the start. He couldn't put Steve through the turmoil of the media and press. Couldn't face forcing such a wonderful and kind man to deal with the backlash of dating what amounted to TMZ trash. 

"JARVIS, put another ten percent into the thrusters. Gimme more speed."

The throngs of green blur underneath him, and Tony takes a sharp right, flying over the East River and Astoria. He keeps going, swooping past the Mineola train station, and adjusting south enough so he flies over Adventureland, past West Babylon, following Sunrise Highway to the end of Long Island. 

At Montauk Point, he finally settles down on one of the large boulders that sit in the water just off the shore. The lapping of the waves is soothing, and he flips up the face plate and closes his eyes, indulging in the spray of the sea and the smell of saltwater. He doesn't really know what it means to love Steve, not coherently anyway. But he knows he does love him. And he knows he needs to squash it down. 

Later that night, back at the tower, Tony sits across from Steve and eats the corned beef and cabbage Steve has spent all day cooking. He butters the homemade Irish Soda Bread and drinks his weight in Celray Soda. He thanks Steve for making the traditional meal as he dips his potatoes and beef into spicy brown mustard, and he plays the Dropkick Murphy's on repeat all evening.

The one thing he does not do is the only thing he feels most compelled to.

He does not tell Steve that he loves him. Instead, he jams it back down his throat with too much food and false smiles.

And as far as he knows, Steve doesn't notice. He  _ is _ the one with the Luck of the Irish, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really curious as to what everyone is thinking of this series, please, please comment!


	4. April

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve faces one of his worst nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update today! Enjoy!
> 
> RiaRose - 3136 - T1 - Presumed Dead

Twelve Months

Chapter Four: April

Prompt: Presumed Dead

It's on every single news station, and Steve can't reach Tony. He's growing frantic with every unanswered phone call. Hitting redial each time Tony's voicemail picks up, his panic edging up his esophagus. _You've reached Tony Stark. I'm otherwise unavailable, take your pick at what I'm doing, and leave a message._

"Pick up the phone, Tony!"

Bruce watches as Steve paces the living room, his feet frantically stomping back and forth.

_You've reached Tony Stark. I'm otherwise unavailable, take your pick-_

He jabs the end button and calls again. On the television, a newswoman is speaking solemnly over footage of helicopters and the US Coast Guard surveying a burning wreck in the middle of the ocean. "Once again, we're bringing you live coverage of the wreckage of Singapore Air Flight 328 out of Singapore. We've just received notice that the black box has been recovered…"

_You've reached Tony Stark. I'm otherwise unavailable, take your pick at what I'm doing-_

He hits end again, turning to face Bruce. "This has to be a mistake!"

Bruce licks his lips, his eyes watery. He looks stricken, something Steve has never seen on him. His voice is flat as he repeats the information he has like he's done this before, and he has. Nine times since the breaking news bulletin flashed across the television screen. "He called me this morning. Preflight checks on his personal plane came back with engine issues. He said he was taking Flight 328 out of Singapore at 10pm their time." Shaking his head, Bruce looks away. "I'm sorry, Steve. I wish it wasn't true. Tony was on that plane."

The woman on the television shuffles the papers in front of her. "Just in, the US Coast Guard is reporting that there are no survivors. Again, Singapore Air Flight 328 out of Singapore has gone down off the coast of California. And there are no survivors."

He feels Bruce's hands, gentle on his back, as he leads Steve to sit down. "It can't be true." A sniff beside him pulls Steve's attention from the television. Bruce is crying, and Steve feels his own eyes well up. "Please!" he's pleading, his voice cracking under the devastating emotions. "It _has to be a mistake!"_

It's like a nervous tick at this point, to hit the redial on his cellphone. Bruce's hands are shaking as he puts an arm around Steve's shoulders. 

_You've reached Tony Stark. I'm otherwise unavailable, take your pick at what I'm doing and leave a message._

This time, Steve doesn't hang up. He waits for the beep, and is silent for a moment before speaking. "Tony? Tony, please, call me back! Just tell us you're okay! Please!"

Bruce takes the phone from Steve's hands, hitting the end button and placing it on the coffee table. "We need to call Pepper."

"No!" He wrenches away from the physicist, standing and viciously wiping tears. "No! Not until we know for sure!"

"Steve," Bruce tries again, reaching out for him, "Steve, we do know for sure. Tony's gone."

A sob escapes his throat. "He can't be!"

He feels like he's under water, like he did the few moments after he hit the ice before unconsciousness took away the pain. It's jarring. Confusing. If Tony is dead, then Steve can never tell him. And that's not right. That's not how the story ends, it can't be! He has to tell him, has to at least take the chance of holding Tony close and saying those words. It's not right. It's not fair. 

He can't lose another person he loves. 

Not like this.

_God, I swear, if he's alive, I'll tell him. I promise I'll tell him!_

His phone rings, and Steve is momentarily elated. It's Tony! It's Tony telling him he's okay. It's Tony saying that there was a mistake, he got the flight number wrong when he informed Bruce, he's really still sitting in the airport, waiting for his gate to be called, he's-

It's Natasha. 

Steve answers the call and drops his head into his free hand. "Nat?" He's barely able to choke out her name.

"The news, did you see it? Fury said Tony was on that flight, can you confirm-"

Steve cuts her off. "He's dead, Nat. Tony's dead!" It hits quickly, the acceptance, and Steve feels the hot tears he was holding back spill over and slide in fat drops down his cheeks.

"No!" He can hear the despair in her voice. It's unfamiliar, disquieting. 

"I keep trying to call him. It goes straight to voicemail. I…I can't-" It's like he's lost the use of his vocal chords. No other words are coming out. Sputtering, he chokes on air and wordlessly hands the phone to Bruce. He can't do it. He can't stand there and talk to Natasha, can't comfort her when he can't even comfort himself. 

"Nat?" He hears Bruce say, but it's gargled by the pounding in his ears. Turning his back on Bruce, he moves to the kitchen, his body feeling too heavy and cumbersome. Awkward. Like when he was first getting used to it after the serum. 

In the corner cabinet, Steve pulls out Tony's favorite mug. For a moment, he contemplates filling it with coffee, like it usually is, but he shakes his head and turns back to the living room and toward the bar. Scotch. That's the only thing he wants. He can't get drunk, can't even get tipsy, but he can let the warmth of the drink hit the back of his throat and burn his tongue. 

He's on his third mug full when the elevator dings. Bruce is still talking quietly to Natasha, but he tuned them out some time ago. He hopes it's Thor. Even Clint. But Thor… Thor gives the best hugs, and he could really use one right about now. 

Swallowing the last of the scotch in the mug, Steve sets it down and walks to greet whoever it is. Pepper gives good hugs too, and she can cry with him. 

He's barely ten feet from the elevator when it opens. And it's not Thor or Pepper or even Clint.

It's Tony. It's actually, for real this time Tony. 

"Oh God!" he exclaims, rushing forward. Tony looks confused for a second before Steve is on him, wrapping his arms around him and lifting the smaller man from the floor. "You're alive!" His tears are coming faster now, in relief and joy to see Tony. Alive. Not dead. Safe. Not at the bottom of the Pacific. "Tony, oh my God, Tony!"

There are running footsteps from the hallway as Bruce hurries forward. "Nat! It's Tony! He's okay!"

Tony pulls back, a frown on his face. "What's going on?"

"What's going on?!" Steve pulls him into a hug again, burying his face in Tony's hair. "We thought we lost you!"

"Tony," Bruce's voice is cracking, "Tony, your flight went down. No one survived. Jesus, we thought- we thought you were dead!" Steve steps back to let Bruce in, and the scientist throws his arms around him. He can hear Nat on the phone.

" _He's alive! Thank God! Tell him I'm going to kill him myself!"_

Tony's mouth is open in a little 'o.' He blinks and pulls his phone from his pocket. "I dropped it in the airport, and it got run over by a tram. I didn't know." The phone in his hand is dark and shattered. 

"How did you get here?" Bruce asks, holding Tony at arms length to look him over, just to make sure.

"Met an old friend, he let me take his plane back." Tony jerks his thumb over his shoulder. "He's going to take mine when it's fixed. I slept the whole way."

Wiping his eyes, Steve tries to speak. He tries to say the words, just three simple words. _I love you._ But he can't. He doesn't know why. Doesn't understand why he's squandering his second chance, but he just can't say it out loud. It's a promise broken, he's fully aware, but when he attempts to formulate the words on his tongue, nothing happens. 

"I didn't know," Tony says again. "If I'd have known…" he shrugs and holds his hands out, palms up, in apology. 

"It's okay," Bruce is saying. "You're alive, it's not your fault. We're just thankful, Jesus. We're just happy you're okay!"

Steve tries again, but still he can't put a voice to what he needs to say. So, he just keeps hugging Tony and doesn't say that he loves him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this was a wee bit sad, maybe I'll post the next today as well. What do you all think? 😈


	5. May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuck in the hospital together, some things are said.
> 
> RiaRose - 3136 - S3 - Major Injuries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all get two today, but no more until tomorrow!

Prompt: Major Injuries

Tony hates magic. He also hates hospitals. He hates being injured moreso. 

All three of those hated things are what he's dealing with at the moment, and he shifts uncomfortably on the hospital bed. _Everything hurts_. According to the Emergency Medicine doctor, he has four fractured ribs, a broken metatarsal, a fractured wrist, two broken fingers, and a dislocated shoulder. That amongst the multiple contusions, the bruises, the scrapes… It's a fucking mess all around. 

In the bed next to him, Steve is quietly seething, his leg in a cast from thigh to foot. He'll heal quicker (which Tony maybe had complained loudly about) and be able to leave this godforsaken place _days_ earlier than Tony. 

Fucking malarkey, if you asked him. 

"Stop fuming. I can hear you thinking all the way over here."

Steve grunts. "We're barely five feet apart."

"I can still hear you." Tony tries to cross his arms over his chest, but the pain flares, and he drops his hands to the bed. "I maintain it wasn't my fault." The back of his hand itches where they moved the IV when he accidentally pulled the other one from the crook of his elbow. ‘Accidentally’ being the operative word there. 

"If you had just stopped goading her for one second, we could have caught her and been done with it!" His head snaps to the right, glaring at Tony, knuckles tight around the metal rails on the side of the bed.

"I was _distracting_ her!"

"You were _pissing her off_!"

"She was already pissed off!" Tony shoots back, his own glare just as fierce. "Or did the fact that she _threw a house_ at us not tip you off?" He picks at the tape holding in the IV. _Fuck_ , he wants to rip it off. The movements jostle the catheter and send flares of pain through his hand.

Livid, Steve reaches for the only projectile he can find: his pillow. "She threw the house _after_ you called her a swamp beast!" The pillow lands with stunning accuracy, slamming into Tony's face. It would have been funny had Tony not cried out in pain, and Steve's angry face melts into concern. "Tony? Tony, I'm sorry! I didn't mean-"

"-Fuck off, Rogers!"

Steve clenches his jaw shut, pulling in air through his nose with fury. It's not a good look for him. "God, you're such a prick! It's a wonder I fell in love with you at all!"

As soon as the words leave his mouth, his eyes go wide and his face turns red. Tony's mouth drops in shock. "You're in love with me too?"

"Of _course_ I am! You-" he freezes, looking at Tony in confusion. "Too?"

Tony feels all the blood drain from his face. No. No, he did not just out himself. He can't do this. It was okay when he didn't think Steve loved him back - and _fuck,_ Steve _loves_ him? - but now, oh shit. Now it's worse. It's so much worse. He needs to deflect. Can't let Steve make the biggest mistake of his perfect American life. _No, Steve, you need to hate me._

When the drugs wear off, he feels more than a little guilty, but in that moment, Tony was doing what he thought he had to.

"Shut up, Rogers! Just shut the fuck up for once!"

"Tony, do you love me?" Steve takes the anger easily. His voice is barely a whisper, wonder set on his face.

The hand with the broken fingers flails up, desperately grappling for the curtain divider. _Oh fucking hell. Congratulations, Tony, you've really screwed the pooch on this one_ . "I didn't say that. Shut up and let me sleep!"

"Tony, wait!"

Finally gaining purchase on the curtains, Tony swings his arm forward, sending the divider sailing between them. It hurts, pain shooting up his hand and into his forearm, but he needs to get away from Steve, and since he's stuck on the bed, his best option is not seeing him. He'll take what he can get.

So what if Steve loves him back? It's still a supremely bad idea. This won't end well. It can't end well. That's no way he can be what Steve needs, he's not that guy. He's selfish and crass, nothing but trouble. He'll only hurt Steve. Jesus, he _refuses_ to hurt Steve! 

"Tony, talk to me, please!"

His chest is getting tight, and Tony rubs the skin above the arc reactor. _Breathe_ , he pleads with himself, _just breathe!_ Now is _not_ the time for a panic attack.

"Tony!"

He can't do this. He can't let Steve fuck up his own life by letting Tony in. It doesn't _matter_ that it's all Tony wants, all he can think about. _He doesn't matter_ . Not in the grand scheme of things, not unless he's creating something to better the world. His _genius_ is useful. _Not him._

Reaching up to the remote that controls, well, _everything_ , Tony fumbles with the buttons before he's able to turn out the light on his side. Steve keeps begging him, pleading with him to talk. Taking the pillow Steve threw, Tony buries his face in it, inhaling a scent that is wholly Steve. It smells like his shampoo and aftershave, post battle sweat and the detergent he uses. It's as close as he'll allow himself. He almost destroyed Pepper. He won't allow himself to do that to Steve.

And answering Steve means admitting how in love with him Tony actually is. And knowing that Steve feels the same way… He's not strong enough to say no. Not even close. He knows he'll give in, and then he's damning Steve to turmoil and stress. To dealing with the media and with Tony's baggage.

No one deserves that, least of all Steve.

"Tony," Steve's quiet voice breaks through the fear. A small light he can walk towards, something to guide him back. "Tony, please. I love you."

He ignores it and presses the pillow into his face harder, letting himself cry. Just a little. A few tears, hasn't he earned that right? Hasn't he been through enough that he's allowed to mourn the loss of what he can't have? 

"Tony?"

He shakes his head, even though Steve can't see him, and remains silent. 

Tony doesn't speak again until Natasha comes to pick up Steve the next day. And even then, it's only a soft, "I'm sorry," as Nat helps move him to the wheelchair.

Steve looks crushed but lets Natasha wheel him away. 

When he's gone, Tony hugs the pillow and speaks to the empty room. "I'm sorry. But I love you too much to let you get hurt because of me." 

The pillow loses his scent by the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😈 I know I insinuated lighter. I lied. 
> 
> Feel free to sound off in the comments, I feed off your tears. 😂😈💜


	6. June

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony get picked for a recon mission and everything comes to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a longer one than usual! And also one of the reasons for the E reading! 
> 
> See you all tomorrow! 😈
> 
> RiaRose - 3136 - T5 - Non Penetrative Sex

Prom pt: Kink: Non Penetrative 

  
  


It's been a month of them avoiding each other. A month of awkward shuffles and longing glances. A month of tension and silence. No one else knows what's going on. They only know what Natasha had told them, that something happened in the hospital room that prompted Tony to say that he was sorry. That's it. Steve remained tightlipped on the car ride back and even weeks later refused to say a word about what transpired between him and Tony. 

Tony is mostly healed. He's in a walking boot, and his wrist is still wrapped, but Fury sends him on a reconnaissance mission anyway. With Steve, of fucking course. 

_ "Easy as apple pie," _ Fury had said.  _ "You'll stay in the cabin, all the surveillance equipment is already set up. Just listen and learn. That's it." _

"That's it," Tony complains to JARVIS an hour before they're set to leave. He's seated at his workbench, tinkering with a broken display. "That's it, he says! Only it's three days  _ alone _ with Steve!"

JARVIS' voice holds no pity. "Forgive me, Sir, but maybe you could use this time to repair your relationship with Captain Rogers."

Tony shakes his head and throws the wrench he was using back into the tool box. It hits the other tools with a clang. "No, thanks. I'll pass."

"Sir, if I may-"

"-No you may not. It's better if he hates me." Sighing, he stands and hobbles over to his overnight bag, checking to make sure he has what he needs. Changes of clothing, toiletries, his phone charger… Turning back to the bench, he plucks a Starkpad from the charging dock and tosses it on top. This is going to be a nightmare. 

  
  
  


It takes just about two hours to get there with traffic. Bear Mountain is pretty enough, Tony thinks, and the cabin is cozy. Had he not been such a fuck-up and actually able to pursue a relationship with Steve, it would have been a wonderful getaway for them. 

They don't speak at all on the ride up. Steve drives, and Tony fusses over the radio. When they pull in, it's Steve who goes into the main office for the keys. Their cover is simple enough: two buddies looking to go fishing. Fury even provided them with fishing poles and bait, a black and beige tacklebox, and one obscene fishing hat with colorful lures sticking out of it. 

Shifting in his seat, Tony plays with the wrapping around his wrist, his mind months in the past when he sprained his ankle and Steve had taken great care to bandage it. He'd give his hands to have that moment back. 

"Cabin fifteen," Steve announces as he gets back into the SUV. "But we knew that." He slips the gear into drive and pulls away from the curb. "What do you want for dinner? Bruce packed the cooler full of goodies, and two bags of food like cereal and pasta."

Tony shrugs noncommittally. "Don't care."

Frowning, Steve takes a left, following the sign for cabins eleven through fifteen. "You have to have some sort of preference. You're pickier than me."

"Bruce made sure he packed things I like." Shifting again, Tony winces, his foot aching.

"Are you in pain? Do you want some Motrin?"

"What?" Tony snaps. "Are we talking now?"

Steve clamps his mouth shut, his eyes hard. He makes the right turn into the cabin's driveway a little too roughly, and Tony has to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. 

Inside, there are only three rooms. A kitchen and living room combo, a bathroom, and a lofted bedroom with two full size beds. The surveillance equipment is, as promised, already set up in the living room. Tony drops his overnight bag in the center of the room, the clonk echoing.

Steve sets the cooler down on the kitchen table before walking back towards the front door. "Fury said Skreever will be in cabin thirteen tomorrow morning, so we have tonight, and then we'll take turns at the monitor." 

"Whatever." Tossing his jacket onto an armchair in the corner, Tony limps outside to the truck and picks up the two reusable shopping bags Bruce filled with the non-perishable foods. Steve is right behind him, swinging his own bag over his shoulder and lifting a case of water. Tony grunts and lets him pass. And if he feels Steve's warmth as the man brushes past him, it only fuels his need to keep his distance. 

Back inside, Steve is already in the kitchen, pulling chicken quarters from the cooler. "There's a barbecue. I'll use that."

"Okay."

"Do you want corn? And potatoes?"

"Sure."

Steve looks flustered for a moment, his hand midair, frozen over the open cooler. He opens his mouth to speak, but wisely stays quiet, instead picking two ears of corn and two whole potatoes. 

Tony ignores him, stiffly moving to the couch and gingerly sitting. Fuck Fury for sending him on this mission. Why not Natasha? Or Clint? Isn't this what they were good at? 

He watches as Steve wraps the corn and potatoes in tin foil, setting them onto a wooden cutting board before turning to the sink to rinse and dry the chicken. 

Carefully, Tony removes the walking boot and props his foot on a pillow. He leans back against the arm of the couch and lets out a breath. His ribs don't hurt much anymore, which is a relief; he has enough breathing issues from the arc reactor. But his foot still throbs sometimes, and he did just spend two hours sitting mostly still in an SUV. 

He can see Steve watching him from the corner of his eyes and makes it a point to look away. Steve heaves a sigh and digs through the cooler, coming up with a bottle of honey barbecue sauce. "I'll be outside," he says, stacking the cutting board with the plate with the chicken on it and the sauce. Gripped in his other hand is a barbecue brush, a long spatula, and a pair of tongs. He turns to get a spoon from one of the drawers. "Do you need anything before I go?"

"No."

Another sigh, and Steve is out the door. 

Tony doesn't realize he had dozed off until Steve lightly touches his shoulder. "Tony?" He jerks awake, struggling to sit up, a scowl on his face. Steve steps back. "Dinner is ready."

"Okay." 

Steve nods once and turns away, walking to the door, his shoulders hunched. "I thought we could eat outside. It's a nice night."

"Sure."

"Can you please say more than three words to me?" he snaps, whipping around to face Tony, pleading in his eyes.

Angrily velcroing the boot back onto his foot, Tony doesn't even look up. "No."

"Fine. Be a child!"

He's sorely tempted to stick his tongue out at Steve.

Dinner is awkward and quiet, as expected. Fury calls as Tony dips his finger into what's left of the barbecue sauce on his plate. He watches a play of emotions roll across Steve's face as he listens to the phone, finally pinching the bridge of his nose and hanging up. 

Tony looks at him expectantly. 

"Skreever is in the wind. He's not coming."

Tony blinks, digesting the information, before throwing his head back with an exasperated groan. "Are you shitting me right now?" Fury played them, because  _ of course he did _ . Because obviously the one-eyed wonder can't have the two faces of his superhero team squabbling and ignoring each other. 

"He says to enjoy the cabin for the night, come back tomorrow, and as soon as he knows more he'll set up another surveillance." Standing, Steve stacks his plate with Tony's, sliding their used utensils on top. "If we leave after nine AM, we can miss most of the city traffic."

"Yeah, fine." So, this was a colossal waste of time and energy. Tony throws his napkin down and stands, bracing on the picnic table for a moment, his head hanging low. "This is ridiculous," he grumbles to himself as he watches Steve's back retreat inside with the plates and cutting board. Tony rubs his face and gathers the butter, salt and pepper shakers, and the napkins. The screen door slams behind him, and Tony can't help but stare at Steve's ass at the sink, appreciating the view, even if he can't do anything about it. 

He feels awful. Love or no, Steve doesn't deserve to be treated like this. And to be fair, Tony really misses his friendship. "You cooked, let me get the dishes." Giving Steve the first real smile he has in weeks, he gently shoulders him aside, taking the sponge from his hand. 

"No, Tony, it's all right." Steve's hand lifts to take the sponge back, but Tony holds it out of reach. 

"Really, I insist!"

"Tony, you're exhausted. You're still in pain and-"

He snaps upright, his irritation creeping up his spine. "I'm injured, not an invalid. I can handle a few dishes, Steve!"

"Just let me do them! I like washing dishes, really!"

Huffing, Tony forces his way back in front of the sink, turning the water on angrily. "No one likes doing dishes, Rogers. Cut the shit." His foot in the boot moves in front of Steve's, since he's still trying to bully his way in front of the sink, but Tony steps wrong, putting too much pressure and a sharp bolt of pain flares up his leg. "Oh, fuck me! Just move, will you!"

"No!" Steve's got on his Captain face, determination set in his brows. "Will you sit before you fall down!?"

"You know," Tony fumes, throwing the sponge into the sink hard enough water splashes up, "I  _ am _ an adult!"

Steve tries to bodily move him, gripping Tony under his elbows and lifting him. Tony struggles, jerking his body to the left and freeing himself. He gets right into Steve's face, his finger jabbing furiously into his chest. "Just who the hell do you think you are?!"

There's a pause, an inhale like the breath before a storm, and then Steve is grabbing Tony's face and kissing him hungrily. 

And Tony is kissing him back. 

They stumble, dishes forgotten, into the wall on the other side of the kitchen, ripping at clothes and nipping at lips and ears and chin. When Steve lifts him this time, Tony lets him, hoisting his legs around Steve's middle and diving back in to kiss him. Months of built up tension between them spilling over and culminating in this. Whatever  _ this _ is. 

They're naked from the waist up as Steve fumbles up the stairs, still holding Tony and still devouring his mouth. He lays Tony on the bed and carefully removes the walking boot. "Tell me if I hurt you."

Tony wants to tell him to stop, wants to bite out something insulting to get Steve to stomp away from him. But he can't. 

Steve tastes too good. 

So, he nods and lifts his hips when Steve tugs at the waistband of his half undone jeans, and as soon as Steve divests himself of his own clothing, he aligns himself on top of Tony, kissing down his neck and sliding their cocks together. Tony pants at the contact -- it feels wonderful -- and lets his knees fall open. There's a twinge of pain in his foot, and he shifts his body just slightly, hooking his heel over Steve so all the pressure is on his calf instead. Every touch from Steve is hot and sends shivers through his skin. 

"Jesus, Tony." Steve gasps, holding himself up on his forearms and thrusting forward and back to keep up the delicious friction. His head drops down so their foreheads are pressed together, their eyes locking, and Tony feels his breath hitch at the depth of love he sees in those pretty baby blues. 

Hands lifting to grip Steve's shoulders, Tony moans and pushes his hips up, rocking them faster and faster against Steve's length. It feels so good, so perfect, and he's not going to last long. It's too much at once of everything he wants, and it's overwhelming. 

"Steve," he moans, letting his head fall back, "Oh God…" His hands relinquish their grip on Steve's shoulders and trail up past his shoulder blades to his neck, tugging Steve down to slip his tongue inside his mouth. 

The moan that action pulls from Steve's throat is deep and raspy and sends a tremble through Tony's body. Steve's tongue slips past Tony's lips, and Tony opens up to him eagerly, a jolt of pleasure coursing through him as Steve sucks on the muscle. They're moving frantically now, sweat slicking their skin enough so they slip against each other, rutting desperately. Tony can feel Steve's testicles hitting between his legs, and it dials up his passion, his vocal chords projecting their approval in a staccato rhythm, growing louder and needier the closer he gets to completion. 

Steve's lips press open mouthed kisses down Tony's neck, and when he sucks on that spot behind his ear, Tony sees sparks, his legs clamping around Steve, and he's coming. His seed shoots out, coating their stomachs and mingling with their conjoined sweat. Steve's eyes are wide as he watches Tony orgasm, and he reaches between their bodies wrapping his hand around both of them and feeling Tony's cock pulse with his climax. He strokes them both twice before he violently shudders and comes, his body jerking once before collapsing on top of Tony. 

They take a moment to catch their breaths, Steve rolling off him and falling to his back beside Tony. 

And that, of course, is when Tony's mind catches up with his body. 

The warmth of Steve's skin on his fades quickly, and he's sitting up, chest and stomach sticky with come. 

"Tony?"

But Tony just shakes his head, swinging his feet over the side of the bed and planting them on the floor. 

"Hey, wait." Steve is pushing up into a sitting position, arm encircling Tony's waist. "Lie down, talk to me. What's going on in that brilliant mind of yours?"

He shouldn't be surprised at the sting of tears in his eyes, but he is. The walking boot is on the floor next to the bed, and he drags it over with his good foot. "This was a mistake."

"What?" Steve's arm pulls back, and Tony is afraid of what that means, even if it's what  _ should _ happen. "No, Tony, this was  _ not _ a mistake, please don't say that!" He's scooting his body to the edge of the bed, next to Tony, and his thigh slides against his; it sends a bolt up Tony's spine.

"It can't happen again, Steve. I'm sorry." The boot secure on his foot, Tony maneuvers his boxers over the bulky cast and stands, tugging them up. "I'm going to clean myself up." Steve makes a grab for Tony's hand, but Tony pulls it away. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

"Tony! Don't you get it?  _ I love you. _ And I know you love me!" Steve jumps to his feet, reaching for Tony as he walks away. "I'm failing to see the damn problem!"

"We can't be together!" Tony snaps, spinning around to face him. "What part of this are you unable to comprehend?! It's only going to end in me hurting you. I'm only going to break your heart, Steve. Fuck! Don't you have  _ any _ self-preservation?"

"How can you say that? How can you possibly know that?!" His voice is rising in his anguish, and Tony feels his own heart cracking. 

"Because that's what happens whenever anyone gets involved with me." He sounds defeated. His eyes are starting to well up again, and Tony blinks furiously in an attempt to make them stop. "I'm cursed. I'm damaged goods. And I will never forgive myself if I give in because it's going to destroy you."

"Why don't you let me decide that?" Steve softly responds, stepping closer to Tony. 

Tony shakes his head again, and one tear falls loose, rolling down his cheek. He takes two steps back, his body trembling. "No," he says quietly, "I love you too much to…" Voice breaking, Tony wipes at his face. "You deserve someone so much better than me."

"Better than you? Who could possibly be better than you?"

"Honestly? Anyone." At the stairs, he places his hand on the railing and looks up to catch Steve's eyes. "Stay away from me. I'm toxic. Do you hear me? Don't touch me again!" He forces the last bit out angrily, forces his voice to have a bite to it. 

Steve's hand is left midair, still reaching for Tony as he goes down the stairs and into the bathroom.

He sleeps on the couch, and when Steve wakes in the morning, he's already gone. 


	7. July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve bump into each other at a coffee shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two today since they're both short. I'll be back this evening with the other. 
> 
> Ria Rose - 3136 - K5 - Asking for Trouble

Prom pt: Asking for Trouble

The rest of June and most of July go by much the same as it had been since that night in the cabin. Steve and Tony don't talk until they're on a mission (or rather, Tony doesn't talk and Steve makes a few pathetic attempts). Tony can barely bring himself to look at Steve without wanting to flee the room. Though, he does buy Steve a very expensive handcrafted watch for his birthday. 

He leaves it on the counter, unwrapped and with no note or birthday card, but he knows that Steve is aware of who gave it to him. He gets a quiet, "Thank you," the next morning when they bump into each in the kitchen, but as usual, Tony runs away almost as soon as he sees Steve. 

The last week of July begins with a heatwave, with temperatures in the upper 90s and the UV index high and dangerous. Tony's self-built air conditioning units struggle to keep up with the heat, but they do the job better than even the department stores that unlucky tourists constantly duck into to escape the blazing temperatures and stifling heat of Manhattan. 

Tony spends most of his time either in the workshop or in the Stark Industries R&D department. He works like a man on a mission, and it's not a bad comparison. If he distracts himself during the day and works to the point of exhaustion, then he gets to sleep at night without the memories of Steve's kisses and the feeling of his body on his own. Pepper is thrilled with the amount of upgrades he pushes through and the new products he's created (including an entire line of small kitchen appliances), but she's worried, bringing it up every couple of days that Tony  _ can _ take a break, and  _ it's okay if the Starkpad upgrade isn't done by Friday, it's not due out for another four months. Tony, when was the last time you ate?  _

He's looking rough. He knows it. He's lost at least fifteen pounds, and the dark circles under his eyes have turned from purses to luggage, but Tony just  _ can't _ . Nothing tastes good. Nothing feels good. He garners a sense of accomplishment every time he completes a project, and it's that high he chases day after day. 

He wants to go back. Wants desperately to return to before he loved Steve, when he had his friendship and that was  _ okay. _

He _ misses _ Steve. 

But there's no undoing everything that had transpired. There's no going back to before they lay in bed together, no erasing the hospital confession. Tony feels like a bottle of glitter tumbled onto the floor. Every time he tries to clean up the mess, there's always a bright reminder days and weeks later that he spilled himself everywhere.  _ And everyone knows it _ . 

They may not know what happened, but they know  _ something _ did. 

He finally leaves the tower on the last Friday in July, the weather app on his phone telling him that the outside temperature is 97 degrees and the heat index is at 106. It's sweltering,  _ but he needs to get out _ . 

The Starbucks around the corner offers a blast of cold air as he walks in and  _ damn  _ does that feel good. There're the usual requests for pictures as he waits in line, and when it's his turn, he orders a Venti iced Americano and a cheese danish and turns to find a seat. 

In the corner by the window, sketchbook open on the table in front of him, is Steve. 

_ Of all the joints in this city… _

Tony freezes for a half a second, and it's a hair too long. He tries to quietly escape through the door, but Steve spots him.

"Tony!"

It's a low blow. Steve knows they can't ignore each other in public because the world wants to see a unified team. They love the camaraderie; it gives them hope. Tony's shoulders slump minutely, but he makes his way over, slipping into the seat across from him.

"Hey," he offers quietly, playing with the straw in his drink. 

"Hi." Steve visibly swallows, Tony can see the wheels in his head turning before Steve nods and asks, "Do you want to see what I'm drawing?" He doesn't wait for Tony to answer, just flips the sketchbook around so he can view it. 

It's a sketch of Tony, from  _ that night _ , though not explicit. It's Tony's upper body and head, eyes round and dark, lips parted, a look of pure bliss on his face.

"Steve!" Tony slams the book shut. "You can't work on that in public! If someone sees… if the media gets wind…!"

Steve is shaking his head vehemently. "I don't care. Tony, I don't care. I'm ready to shout it from the rooftops if it'll just get you to  _ talk _ to me!"

"This was a bad idea." Tony stands and shoves the danish across the table at Steve. He can't even stomach the thought of food now. "I should never have left the tower."

"Jesus, Tony, would you look at yourself?" He pulls Tony's arm, forcing him to sit again. "You're miserable.  _ I'm _ miserable. And that's because we  _ both _ know that this," he gestures in between them, "is  _ right." _

Tony feels the blood drain from his face and snaps. "Shh! Are you crazy?!"

"I don't care! I'm proud-" Tony hisses at him again, and Steve finally lowers his voice to a whisper. Tony’s grateful, even if Steve only does it to appease him. "-That I love you. And you love me."

"Steve, I can't-"

"Why?"

The question throws Tony for a moment. Didn't he already explain this? "You know why."

"No, I don't." Steve leans forward, bracing himself on his forearms. "I know why you  _ think _ it won't work."

"Steve," Tony has to fight back a wave of panic, "I'm afraid, I'm-"

"You think I'm not? You think it doesn't scare the crap out of me that America's supposed golden boy is gay for Iron Man?" He lifts his hand and stretches it out for Tony's, but Tony sits back, out of reach. The hand falls to the table with a thud. "But I know when I'm with you, I mean. That night, I never - Tony, are you listening? - I  _ never _ felt so right. So happy. So complete."

Tony licks his lips and lets out a shaky breath. "We can't, Steve. Trust me, you don't want to be with someone like me. That's just asking for trouble."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

He shakes his head, looking away from Steve. He can't do it anymore, can't look at his gorgeous face, his beautiful eyes, his earnest expression without wanting to kiss him. "No. Steve, no. I'm sorry." He stands. "I really am." 

Steve lets him leave, the tinkling of the bells on the door ringing overhead as Tony steps back into heat and past the window. Steve's eyes are on him as he walks by, and Tony feels the burning. 

It has nothing to do with the sun. 


	8. August

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve comes to Tony to tell him a story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ria Rose - 3136 - S5 - Bedtime Stories

Prompt in Bedtime Stories

Three weeks later, Tony has put some weight back on, if only to keep Steve's concern at bay. He makes himself eat and retire to his rooms each night for a proper sleep on a proper bed. It's just after midnight, and Tony lies on his side, blankets up around his shoulders, staring out into the Manhattan night. 

Just because he goes to bed doesn't mean he always sleeps.

"Sir," JARVIS speaks up, "Captain Rogers is requesting entry."

It's a horrendously bad idea. He knows it. But he's had a crap day, and his resolve is running low. "Let him in."

He hears the door open into his private living room, and the hallway light spills into his bedroom as Steve lets himself in. He doesn't move. Just keeps his gaze out toward the skyline, his back to Steve. If he can focus on the stars that make it through the ambient city light, then he doesn't have to think about Steve being in his bedroom.

When the bed dips, Tony has to grip the edge to keep from rolling toward him. His knuckles go white with the strain.

"You don't have to speak. Just listen."

Tony's breath quickens and he gives a small nod. 

"I fell in love with Peggy Carter almost right away. I didn't admit it to myself - not at first - but I did. She was everything I had wanted. Smart, strong, and determined. Someone who could match me intellectually and challenge me." Tony feels him move closer, shifting on the bed to lean over Tony's prone form. "I also thought she was the most beautiful woman in the entire world." 

He tries so hard not to, but Tony's eyes flicker away from the window and up to view Steve. He looks so lost. The dull blue and grey of Manhattan's light flickers against his skin, interspersed with shadows from the window panes. He looks like a ghost, something unreal and haunting. Tony's chest seizes. _Are you the spirit who's coming was foretold to me?_

"I wanted to marry her."

"Why are you telling me this?" He doesn't mean to interrupt, but Tony has to know. Why tell him about the great love of his life? The one he could never have? Tony's chest tightens, and he closes his eyes, turning his face into his pillow. He is second best. Steve's other choice since the first one didn't pan out. Always not good enough. 

"Because I need you to understand, Tony." He senses Steve's hand before he feels it, sliding under his cheek and turning his face so Tony has no choice but to look at him. "I lost her. And it nearly destroyed me."

He tries to pull away, but Steve's eyes have him trapped. 

"We had a date. She was going to teach me how to dance. But then I went into the ice, and by the time I came out, she was an old lady with Alzheimer's, and that was it. No chance." His hand is warm against Tony's cheek, and Tony longs to hate him, to feel indifferent to his heat. To not want to kiss him. 

Steve continues, his voice soft. "I didn't know if I could ever love again. It didn't seem possible. But that's the thing, Tony," he leans in close. "The heart has an amazing capacity to love. And though I didn't think it possible, I fell in love again. With you. And somehow it's greater. Maybe because I know you better than Peggy - I never really got the chance to know her like I know you."

Tony is holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it doesn't. Steve braces his left arm in front of Tony and leans in further, kissing his forehead. "I lost her. I don't want to lose you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Tony.” A beat passes before Steve murmurs, his voice like a prayer, “I think I had to lose her to get to you."

Tony's eyes grow wide, but his voice is caught. He can't answer even if he wanted to. 

"You and I, we're meant." Steve sits up straight, but he doesn't take his eyes from Tony's. "Take a leap, Tony. Good night." And he's gone, slipping through the door as silently as entered. 

Outside, the glow of the city pulses with life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all uphill from here. See you all tomorrow!


	9. September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At a festival in the city, Steve makes a bet with Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😊
> 
> Ria Rose - 3136 - K2 - Dares/Bets

Prompt: Dares/Bets

"The Feast of San Genarro," Tony is saying, shoving a zeppole into his mouth and talking around it, "is in celebration of Saint Januarius. He was a martyr. During the persecution of Christians by Emperor Diocletian, he hid them. He was found and arrested when he went to visit a friend in prison."

"That's a stupid way to get caught." Natasha's hand is in the greasy white bag Tony carries. She pulls out a zeppole and shakes off the excess powdered sugar. 

Tony gives a short laugh. "Ah well. I didn't say he was smart." 

"So what happened to him?" She takes a dainty bite, and her eyes go wide. "This is delicious!"

"Told you!" He offers the bag to Steve, who shrugs and shoves his hand in. They're walking down Mulberry Street, headed towards Canal. It's mid-September, and the festival is at its height. Somehow, Tony let Steve back into his life. He still isn’t consenting to a relationship, but Steve seems okay with having Tony back as a friend at the very least. He'll take what he can get, and though this is just masquerading as normal, it's enough of a step back to hopefully work. 

It started with sharing breakfast and grew to sparring together again. Within a week they were sitting next to each other on the couch, yelling at the baseball game on the television, and seeking each other's company for a drink or a late night stroll up and down Broadway. With no hesitation, Tony asked Steve to come to the festival with him and Natasha. He couldn't think of anyone better to spend the day with.

"Where have these been all my life?" Steve exclaims, licking his fingers. Tony has a hard time looking away. "Gimme another!"

"Say please, you heathen!" But Tony holds the bag out anyway. 

"So," Natasha prods, "what happened to the saint?"

"They threw him to the wild boars."

"That's cold."

"Yup." Tony nods, using his thumb and index finger to pluck another treat from the bag. He bites half of it at once, his tongue darting out to lick the sugar from the corners of his mouth. "But the boars wouldn't eat him. So they beheaded him instead."

Steve snorts and inhales the powdered sugar accidentally, coughing and sputtering as a puff of it halos in front of his face. Natasha hands over a napkin, laughing as Steve sneezes and coughs again. "That's one way to do it," he chokes out the words and laughs self-deprecatingly. 

"Why not do that first?" She shoves her hand into Tony's pocket and pulls out his wallet, but it doesn't even shock him. He waves her away as she grins and jogs over to another food vendor. "You guys want?" she calls back, getting in line. 

Recovered, Steve takes a long drink from a bottle of Peroni beer, trading an amused glance with Tony. "Yeah, get me a sausage and pepper on a roll!"

"Make that two!" Tony holds up two fingers, the white bag clenched in his fist. 

Tipping his head back, Steve finishes the beer. "I want to try that Nasty Assure one now."

Tony guffaws, exaggerating the movement. "You wound me with your insensitive cultural blunders!" 

"All right then, what's it called?"

"Nastro Azzurro. And yeah I want too, there's a vendor across the way." He points to a beer truck, parked by the curb. "But, in case you missed it," Tony laughs, "Natasha took my whole damn wallet."

"I got it," Steve chuckles. "Hey, Nat!" he calls out, and she turns her head to look at him, the line moving slowly. Holding up his empty bottle, he wiggles it. "We're getting another! You want?"

"Is that even a question?"

Tony throws his head back, smiling brightly. "That's my girl! We'll be over there." He points to the vendor, and she gives them a thumbs up. Gesturing with his head for Steve to follow, he leads the way over, getting in line. "I'm getting the Birra Moretti. No, wait, I want the Nastro."

Steve nods, stepping back to let a couple walk through. He watches as they pass and turns back to Tony. "How do you know all that stuff?"

"What stuff? You know I'm a genius, right?"

Steve waves away the answer. "I mean the religious stuff. I never took you as a believer."

There's an upsurge in noise as a group of teens walk by, playing music loudly from a portable speaker. Tony has to raise his voice to be heard. "I'm not! But my mother was Catholic. I went to religion every Saturday!"

Steve has to lean in to be heard, his lips a breath away. "Religion? You mean like mass?"

"No," Tony shakes his head, "like class! For the sacraments!"

"Don't tell me  _ you _ took communion!"

Tony laughs. "And made my confirmation! That was the last one, though!"

The teens are far enough away now that they don't have to yell. "The church didn't burst into flames as soon as you walked in?"

They're almost to the front of the line, and Tony takes a step closer to the vendor. Steve follows. "Nah, I was innocent at one point. And anyway, I may not believe, but the saints? To an Italian? They're like family, you know? Like crazy Aunt Marie, or good old Uncle Gennaro."

Steve shakes his head, amused. "Do you have any faith? At all?"

He shrugs. "In some things."

"Could you have faith in us?"

Tony sighs, turning to look at the vendor and stepping forward again. "Steve…"

"A bet. How about that?" 

"A bet?"

"Gimme two months. Just two months dating me."

Tony lets out a puff of air and looks down. "Steve, don't."

"No, Tony, I'm serious." For just a second, he lets his hand rest on the small of Tony's back. "I bet you that if we date, you'll be happy.  _ I'll _ be happy. I bet you I can take away all of your fears."

"You'll run screaming within two days." Tony looks up, his eyes challenging. 

"Maybe. If you win, we'll go back to being friends, and I'll never say a word about dating you again."

"And if you win?"

"Name your price." Steve grins, leaning close.

Tony laughs loudly. He's sure as hell not going to lose  _ this _ bet, but it would be nice to pretend that for two months at least he can have what he wants. "Then we can continue to date, and you can use a remote control vibrator in my ass." The words have the desired effect, and Steve blushes. 

"Deal."

They're at the front of the line, and Tony stands up on his tiptoes to brace his arms onto the counter of the beer truck. "Nastro Azzurro,  _ tre _ ,  _ per favore." _

The balding Italian man nods and hands over three ice cold bottles, and Steve drops two twenties on the counter. "Keep the change."

" _ Grazie! _ " 

Natasha is walking towards them as they leave the vendor, juggling three sausage and peppers wrapped in wax paper, Tony's wallet in her mouth. "That's cute." Tony rolls his eyes, taking the wallet and wiping it off on Steve's sleeve.

"Hey!"

Sliding it back into his pocket, he takes one of the rolls and trades it for a beer. Steve does the same, and they start walking again, alternating eating and taking sips. The bag of zeppoles crammed into Tony's coat pocket. He checks his watch. "The procession is going to start, let's find a spot!"

"What?" Steve looks at him, confused. 

"They carry a statue of San Gennaro through the streets from the church."

"Where did you want to stand?"

"Over here," Tony says, leading them to the sidewalk. The crowds are starting to gather around the edges of Mulberry Street, but they manage to find a spot to the side of one of the vendors just as the procession begins. 

Steve and Natasha are delighted, clapping and cheering as it passes, but Tony can only look at Steve and the way the midafternoon sun reflects off his hair. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all uphill from here, folks. See you tomorrow!


	10. October

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halfway through their bet, Steve takes Tony on an unusual date!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ria Rose - 3136 - A4 - Domesticity
> 
> This probably isn't what the prompt really meant, but I took it this way, lol sorry!

Prompt: Domesticity

Tony can't lie. The month following the start of the bet is wonderful. He tries his hardest to live in the moment, despite knowing there's no way this can end well. It's like teetering over a cliff, staring down at the valley and knowing that the fall down will be breathtaking to witness but it all ends the same way - with him splattered on the dirt.

He's left with the choice to embrace the beauty of the fall or never experience it at all.

Before he knows it, four weeks have passed, and it's six days before Halloween. He's sitting in the passenger seat of a borrowed SHIELD Ford Explorer, driving east on the Long Island Expressway. At the wheel, Steve is humming along to the radio to some Big Band and Standard satellite station. It's almost too cute, cruising along the HOV lane, his voice just a twinge off key. Steve's left hand leaves the wheel and takes Tony's. He glances quickly from the road, a sweet smile on his lips. 

" _ Dance with me, I want my arm about you. The charm about you will carry me through to heaven!" _

Tony smiles back. It's wide and open, a little bit shy. He knows the song - his mother loved it - but he doesn't join in, content to hear Steve's voice swell above the music. 

They're going pumpkin picking. Tony's never been, and neither has Steve. It wasn't exactly a normal activity back in the forties, and Tony's own excuse is a father who thought he was above such things. 

It's a long trip, just over two hours with traffic, up to the North Fork of Long Island, but the reviews for the farm are amazing on Google. They take the expressway to the end, getting off at exit 73 and taking a break in the parking lot to the Tanger Outlets. Steve packed them a cooler for lunch: cold cut sandwiches, grapes, sliced apples, and a container filled with iced tea. He forgot the cups, so they sit on the open hatch in the back of the SUV passing the jug back and forth and plucking grapes, watching the shoppers as they pull in and out. 

It's a brisk day, just under fifty degrees, and Tony wears a cashmere beige pullover, black slacks, and his boots. A shiny gold watch adorns his left wrist, face pointed in. Steve dressed for the occasion with a red and blue flannel shirt, ripped jeans, and beat up brown boots. He even has an old blue baseball cap crammed onto his head. They look like they come from two different worlds, and anyone who sees them would attest to that. They have, most definitely, but here and now? They are coexisting together like a well made quilt, vastly different patches to make up one whole. 

A half hour later, they're back on the road, following JARVIS's voice from Tony's phone. Steve merges onto Old Country Road, following the signs to Aquebogue and finally the giant painted pumpkin signs advertising the autumn activity. As they park and get out, Tony is hit with the scent of baked goods. It smells like spice and cinnamon, and he's taken with the sudden urge to bottle the aromas. It smells like home should. The crisp air bites at his nose as they walk down the dedicated path to the patch. 

" _ Pick a pumpkin!"  _ Steve reads aloud from the sign next to the cashier and weighing station, " _ And weigh it here! Two dollars a pound!" _

"I'm gonna find the biggest pumpkin they have!" Tony exclaims as they walk under the arch that marks the entrance to the patch. It's midweek and school is in session, so the farm is almost empty. He steps over a few of the smaller pumpkins set towards the front and makes for the far end, Steve falling into step beside him. He slips his hand into Tony's, glancing slyly at him. There's a brief moment of panic, but with every touch Steve has given him, they've grown shorter and shorter. He wraps his fingers around Steve's palm and smiles at him. It's a little goofy but real. 

In the middle of the patch is a giant blow-up bear, sporting the name of the farm and a black witch’s hat. They take turns posing for pictures and laughing when Tony tries to sit on the outstretched leg of the bear and instead disappears into the folds of the black plastic. He clamors out and - giggling like mad - they race away from it, running to the back of the patch lest they get caught messing with the mascot. 

It takes Tony all of two minutes to find a massive pumpkin that must weigh like a million pounds (he’s good at math, don't question it). He wants it. He's gotta have it. So, he squats, shimmying forwards to hook his hand under the bottom and sides, and lifts. He manages to get it about eight inches off the ground before it clunks back into the dirt. 

"Oh, hell no. I will not be bested by a giant squash!"

Steve stands just behind, eyebrows raised and arms crossed. "Need a hand?"

"No!" Tony slides the sleeves to his pullover up to his elbows, and… assumes the position. This time, he's almost able to stand up straight, before he blows out a burst of air through his lips and sets it back down. "That's it. I'm getting the suit!"

"You are not getting the suit, Tony! It's miles away. Just pick a different pumpkin." Steve's hands flaps out, gesturing to the hundreds of others surrounding them in the patch. 

"They-" he squats again, because third time’s the charm- "are not-" and he lifts, standing up and grunting out the last words, "-big enough!"

Steve watches, an amused grin on his face. "I'd say you're tenacious, but what I really mean is idiotic. Gimme that!" Tony is starting to struggle, the pumpkin dangerously close to dropping. He slips it from Tony's hands easily. 

"I totally had that."

"Sure, and I'm Humphrey Bogart." Steve chuckles with a glance to the sky in exasperation. He starts back to the cashier, eyes peeled for his own pumpkin. As they pass the inflatable bear, they notice that the poor mascot is sagging just a little. 

Tony looks a little guilty. "I'll slip a couple of hundreds into the tip cup."

"Oh! That one!" Steve is able to get the pumpkin mostly onto one arm and point. In front of them is a, Tony has to admit, a perfect specimen of a pumpkin. There's no dents or scars, the orange is bright, it has a big flat face for carving, and a catalogue worthy stem. 

It's only about twenty pounds, and Tony lifts it with ease, shooting Steve a beaming smile. "That's all right, old chap," he takes on a faux British accent, "I'll carry this one, you seem to have your hands full."

  
  
  


Once the pumpkins are paid for and stored in the back of the SUV, they return to browse the aisles of the farm's store, eating corn on the cob they purchased just outside, which is cooked in butter and milk and smeared with seasoning. It's the most delicious thing Tony's ever tasted.

"I can make apple pie later." Steve gestures to the rows and rows of apple bins. He teethes the last of the corn off into his mouth and throws the husk into the garbage. "Interested?"

"In pie? Is that that even a question?" Tony's husk joins Steve's, and he plucks a large canvas bag from the stack next to the apples. Holding it open, he moves the bag toward the bins. "Choose away to your little heart's content!"

Steve chooses an array: Granny Smith, Golden Delicious, Empire… He and Tony pick out a few smaller pumpkins from the inside bins for the rest of the team, as well as a few jugs of homemade apple cider. 

They toss their purchases into the truck and head back inside the market to keep perusing. It's so quaint and pretty, with kitschy scarecrows and hay bales, the trees shimmering with bursts of Autumn colors, and the sky a pure, clear blue. There's a sign for a corn maze, and Tony wastes no time in paying the fourteen dollars to enter. He takes off as soon as the gate opens, and Steve is left to chase him. 

He makes rights and lefts on a whim, not caring about getting lost. Thinking he's finally managed to shake Steve off his trail, he pauses at a crossroad of vegetation, catching his breath. He misses all the air he's trying to take back in when Steve tackles him from behind. Landing with a grunt in dirt, he flips onto his back, laughing and pushing at Steve, who is grinning with no sign of any exertion. "Gotcha!"

"Cheater!"

Steve gasps, holding a hand to his chest. "I am  _ wounded _ . I never cheat!"

"And you're a liar too! What about the last time the team played poker, huh? What was that?"

"Luck." Steve smirks, and under the tall stalks of corn, he kisses Tony breathless. 

  
  


Back home, later that afternoon, Tony sits contentedly at the kitchen island and watches as Steve cuts up the Granny Smith apples for the pie. He lays his head on his outstretched forearm and feels something clicking into place inside him. 

This is what happiness is. 

He can do this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun times had by all! 
> 
> What do you think? Do you think Tony is going to lose this bet? 😈 
> 
> See you all tomorrow!


	11. November

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has lost the bet!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the prompt, you'll notice, is vibes in public but I kinda failed at that. However, it did prompt the whole part and that was their intention, so I'm calling it a win.
> 
> Also, I'm sorry this is going up so late, I got far too involved with a friend's story, lol. Enjoy! 
> 
> Ria Rose- 3136 - T3 - Vibes in Public

Prompt: Kink: Vibes in Public (Well, that was the intention. Does that count?)

  
  
  


_ He lost the bet. _

Steve took him on dates, like  _ actual dates _ . Like pumpkin picking, going out to dinner, walks in the park, and one memorable night marathoning horror movies with Steve hiding his face in Tony's shoulder whenever the movie started getting tense. 

_ And _ they only kissed (it was all very respectable, something Tony wasn't used to…most of the time anyway). It hadn't been a direct term of the bet but an understood one regardless. Sex would only complicate things, and this wasn't about that. It was about being intimate in a different way. A few times, the sweet kisses they exchanged turned heavier, limbs tangled, pants tight. They had to force themselves to separate, breathing heavy and flushing. Laughing at their predicament and joking about cold showers (of which Tony took many).

On a cold Friday morning, Tony lets JARVIS allow Steve entry into his rooms. He doesn't even hesitate anymore, the fear - though not abated - hibernating. He is sitting up in bed, reading the news on his Starkpad, blankets around his waist and only in his boxers. His hair is disheveled, and he's pretty sure there's a line across his face from his pillow. Steve enters carrying a mug of coffee and a plain, unmarked box. 

"That better be for me," Tony says, mirth evident in his tone. Putting the tablet aside, he makes grabby hands at the coffee. Steve dutifully hands it over, his eyes dancing.

"This is too." He holds up the box, a teasing grin on his face. He looks far too satisfied, but - Tony relents to himself - he deserves it. 

"Ah fuck. Is that today?"

Frowning, Steve sits on the edge of the bed, bringing one leg up so he can face Tony. "You know you don't have to." His face is so open and honest, and  _ damn _ if giving Tony an out doesn't endear him to Steve even more. 

Tony gives him a patient smile. "Oh no, a bet's a bet." He tilts his head in question. "I didn't think you'd be so into it."

Steve's face reddens slightly. "I didn't think so either, but honestly? I can't wait to drive you insane with it."

"Oh, goody." It's a sarcastic response, but it's meant lightly. Steve doesn't take offence, which is another thing that took Tony for a ride. He's unfailingly quick to pick up on the subtle nuances of Tony's personality, something he couldn't do at all when they had first met. It's that patience, that willingness to learn that has Tony reeling the most. This is a first for him, and there's not much at this point in his life he can say that about.

Steve starts to hand over the box and pulls it back at the last second. "You don't have anything important to do today, do you?"

"Nope." Tony surges forward and grabs the box from his hand, holding it out of reach and sticking up his index finger to drive his point home. "You won fair and square anyway." Taking an exacto knife from his bedside table and slicing open the tape holding it closed, he shoots Steve a confidant grin. "Sure you don't  _ actually _ want to go running? The screaming is wholly optional. If you just wanted to see me squirm in public - if that's why you stayed - that's cool with me."

Steve lips upturn softly, cupping his face and kissing him. "Nah, I'm right where I want to be."

Tony isn't so sure, but he's willing to take the chance. He doesn't remember the last time he felt so content, and that's all Steve. It's the first time since this whole situation began that he feels like, maybe, they have a chance. And he's so ready to take it.

Inside the box is another. It's clever packaging, discreet on the outside, but within is a picture of the vibrator with the matching remote control. That box is a little trickier to get open but he manages it, even if he has to use his teeth to pry the top off. Steve takes the instructions, studiously ignoring him, and flips the booklet open, settling it on his lap to read.

Tony is turning the actual vibrator over in his hands. It's blue, and the shape is bizarre, but the box says it's specifically meant for prostate stimulation. Oh, he is in  _ so _ much trouble. Steve did his homework. 

"It needs an hour to charge." Steve says, flipping the instructions closed. "Then we're good to go." He stands, coyly slipping the vibrator from Tony's hands, and moves to an outlet to plug it in. Tony finishes his coffee, setting the mug on the nightstand, and leans back against the pillows. 

"You're sure?" He has to ask again, needs the affirmation,  _ has  _ to know that Steve wants this. "Dating me, you know it comes with a lot of shit."

"I'm aware." His voice is playful but steady as he walks back to the bed, pulling off the zip up hoodie he is wearing and letting it drop to the floor. It lands with a thud, and Tony wonders what other goodies Steve brought him. Slowly, Steve crawls onto the mattress, coming to rest over Tony, his knees and hands on either side of him. "Now, we need to fill an hour, and I have a few ideas." Dipping his head, he catches Tony's lips, and the genius gives in, wrapping his arms around him. They wrestle with the blankets for a minute, kicking them down until they're gathered at the foot of the bed, and Steve sits on Tony's lap, grinding down against him and sucking on his tongue. 

Tony is instantly hard. 

It's not like they thought to set a timer, so when Steve and Tony finally come up for air, it's been an hour and a half, and the toy is  _ definitely _ fully charged. 

"Whoops." Steve giggles, like he actually giggles and it's so endearing that Tony feels his heart surge. "Now, for placement."

"You're going to help me with that?"

His grin is devilish, and boy, oh, boy, that's a good look for him. "Yup." He tosses both the toy and the remote onto the bed. "Your boxers: off!"

Tony raises his eyebrows but complies anyway. He can't help but feel excited at the prospect of prolonged pleasure at the hands of Steve. Even if he knows he'll be begging to come by the end of it. 

He always  _ was _ a glutton for punishment. 

He pushes his back against the pillows to gain enough leverage to lift his hips and slide his boxers off. His cock springs free, and Steve is looking predatory. It sends a delicious shiver across his skin to be looked at like that. "My God, Tony. You're beautiful."

Tony blushes, dropping his boxers to the side. He's nowhere near virginal, but damn if Steve doesn't make him feel like one. Steve leans off the bed to pick up his hoodie and pulls two items from the pockets. One, he hides behind him. The other is a bottle of lube. Tony makes a curious sound, but doesn't ask. This is Steve's game. He gets to make the rules. 

Tony is nervous to move from just kissing to, well, actual fucking. Things had been going great without the inclusion of sex. What if this is what breaks it? What if it's not relationships in general that Tony seems to destroy, but only ones that involve sex? His thoughts are irrational - and he knows it - but he can't seem to make them stop. It's a mudslide, and not the fun alcoholic kind. 

Steve senses his fear, and Tony knows he does, because Steve for whatever reason is downright  _ clairvoyant _ when it comes to what's going on with Tony's emotions. It  _ should _ terrify him. It does not.

Realizing that Steve can read his trepidation is actually  _ calming _ in a way that Tony thinks is almost novel. It's sweet. And he likes feeling it.

"Relax, sweetheart. I got you." Gently, he tugs Tony until he's laying down and parts his knees. "I googled it. I'm a pro now." The joke does what it's supposed to, and Tony laughs, his muscles uncoiling. He trusts Steve implicitly. He  _ can _ do this. Fear is  _ stupid _ . Steve knows what he's getting into, he knows what's possible, and he doesn't care. He's an adult, and if he wants to be with Tony, well, who is Tony to stop him? 

They have steered away from the 'L' word - Steve understanding that it was making Tony skittish - but the emotions are palpable. Obvious. Tony is in as deeply as Steve is at this point. The train has left the station. The ship has sailed. The plane has taken off… 

He could cover his eyes, or he could enjoy the ride. And Tony is never one to shy away from a thrill. Usually. Most of the time. He can't  _ just stop _ counting variables, that's like asking a bird not to fly. Or a fish not to swim. It's who Tony is, and it's probably why his personal life is such a mess.

Steve is able to push a pillow underneath Tony's hips, and Tony lets his legs relax. He should feel exposed, showing Steve the most intimate part of his body, but he doesn't. This is more than their frantic groping in the cabin all those months ago. This is Steve, staring at his hole with wonder-filled and lustful eyes. Tony would be lying if he said it wasn't an  _ immense _ turn-on. 

He tries not to squirm away and hide himself, and Steve sends him a comforting smile. It's okay. He's safe with Steve. He can show his belly here. 

The soldier bends down, kissing the crease where Tony's thigh meets his groin, and it sends shivers and pleasure coursing through his body. He never realized one kiss could be so tantalizing. Seeing his reaction, Steve does it again, only instead of a small kiss, he opens his lips and mouths at it, sucking at the tender skin and laves it with his tongue. Tony's head falls back, and he moans, long and low, his fingers going to Steve's hair. 

Steve pulls back with a pop, grinning up at Tony and moving to the crease on his other leg. Tony's ignored erection jumps, and he groans. "Fuck, Steve. That feels amazing." He hears the cap of the lube open, and Steve's slicked finger presses against his hole. "Yes, baby, please. I want you inside of me."

"Not yet, sweetheart." Steve murmurs. "Just my fingers for right now. Then the vibrator. But I promise, when we do finally have sex, I'm never stopping."

"Promises, promises."

The finger pushes past his rim, and Tony lets out a surprised moan. It's been a while since anyone, even himself, has been inside him, and it's just as good as he remembers. 

Steve takes his time, stretching Tony just enough to slip the vibrator into him without any discomfort. Tony's erection is leaking, and he's already feeling desperate to orgasm, but Steve hasn't touched him once. He's already feeling overwhelmed, and it's  _ wonderful. _

Panting, he lifts his head to look at Steve. "Oh fuck, honey. You turn that thing on and I'm liable to come right away. Maybe we didn't think this through. You have no idea what you do to me." 

"Oh, I think I know." Steve holds up the other surprise. It's a cock ring. "Contingency plan."

"Fuck. And here I was thinking I was going to get out of this with my sanity intact."

"That-" Steve teases, "is impossible. You don't have any sanity to begin with."

"Point and match," Tony manages to choke out as Steve deftly slips the ring onto his erection. Finished, he sits up, pulling his legs into a pretzel, and looking at Tony appraisingly. "Happy with yourself?"

Smirking, Steve leans back on his hands. "Ecstatic, actually. And I finally got to touch you again."

Tony feels the flush on his face and curses softly. Steve really does have him acting like a blushing virgin. What. The actual. Fuck. "We  _ could _ just stay in bed and have wild monkey sex." He points in the direction of his ass. "I'm already prepped."

"Oh, no," Steve chuckles dryly, "you said it. A bet is a bet. I won. You didn't scare me off, and now I get to date you  _ and _ have fun with this little remote control." He picks up the plastic square and wiggles it. "Like this." It's a low setting he chooses for the first try, but as soon as he hits the button, Tony is gasping and arching his back. 

"Oh Jesus, fuck!"

Steve switches it off. "Now, for the rules."

"You couldn't have told me them  _ before _ you turned my brain to mush?"

"First," he begins, rolling forward on his legs to crawl up Tony's body, "You come before I say so, and you forfeit. Forfeiting means you have to burst into Clint's room in a tutu and sing,  _ I'm a Little Teapot _ ."

"That's cruel and unusual punishment, Rogers."

"Second-" Steve dips his head down to steal a kiss, "You must go out in public at least once. Go for a walk. Or to that Starbucks you love. And yes, I'll be coming with you."

"And third?" Tony asks, lifting his head to mouth at Steve's jaw. 

He stutters for a second, stumbling over his words as Tony nibbles down his neck. "Third, your safe word is Oklahoma." 

That causes Tony to freeze. He drops his head back, his face puzzled. "Oklahoma?"

"It's something I don't think you'd say in casual conversation, and Clint seems to think it's a perfect safe word. Something about being a jackass."

Tony can't help it, he laughs. "Hi, I'm Tony Stark, and welcome to Jackass." Covering his face, he grins. "Oh, God, is this really my life? Also,  _ Clint knows?!" _

"Okay, well there's obviously a reference there I'm not getting, and no, not exactly. We agreed to keep it secret a few weeks ago until we were ready, I know." He shrugs sheepishly. "I told him I had sex questions, and you know Barton. Anything to corrupt Cap!"

"Little does he know,  _ Google beat him to it. _ "

"Pity."

"Any other rules?" Tony queries, trailing his hands down Steve's chest. He's just about at the waistband of his jeans when Steve jumps off him, butt bouncing on the bed as he rolls and propels himself off of it.

"Oh, no you don't. No teasing me! I have enough to deal with having to listen to  _ you moaning _ all day."

"Right." Tony sits up, swinging his feet over the bed, and the vibrator shifts  _ just so _ inside him. "You're really going to be the one suffering here."

Steve's face falls. "Tony, if you don't want to-"

"-Kidding, Cap! Relax. I want this. Promise."

"You have to be positive, Tony!" Steve looks so concerned - so worried - that it makes Tony smile.

"That's what the safe word is for, honey."

"Okay, true. Get dressed. I'll make you breakfast in the kitchen downstairs." He gives Tony one more kiss and heads to the door, turning around at the last moment. "Oh, and the game starts now." 

The vibrator clicks onto high, and Tony screams at how good it feels, collapsing back onto the bed before it shuts off. 

This is going to be a long day. 

  
  


Tony dresses comfortably and casual. He's no idiot. He can't wear his usual brand of fitted pants, and he sure as hell doesn't want to be constricted with an equally fitted shirt. He showers (and Steve turns the vibe on mid shampoo, causing Tony to fall against the tiles and get soap in his eyes, thanks,  _ Steven _ ), and dresses in a pair of oversized jogging pants and a Type-O Negative shirt that's a size too big. He pulls on sneakers because - as his slip in the shower taught him - traction is everything. 

Clint is at the kitchen island when he gets off the elevator, chatting amicably with Steve, who's at the stove flipping pancakes. It's go-time.

"Morning, Tony." Steve grins at him over his shoulder. "Breakfast is almost done. Have a seat."

"Morning!" He slides onto the stool next to Clint's. "Didn't know you were back," he says to him and starts to cross his legs before wincing and dropping his feet back down to the bar between the stool's legs. " _ Mae govannen, Legolas. _ "

Clint snorts. "Sometimes I forget just  _ how much _ of a nerd you are."

He doesn't see Steve slyly reaching into his pocket until it's too late, and the buzzing has him jerking and nearly falling off the stool. "Fuck!" The pleasure shoots through his balls, and, dear God in Heaven, it's incredible.

Clint catches him as he tilts over into the archer and pushes him back onto the stool, but the vibrations against his prostate aren't letting up. "You okay, Stark?"

His legs are shaking, the heel of his right foot bouncing uncontrollably. "I'm fine!" he manages to choke out. "Back. Sciatica." 

Steve mercifully turns it off. "You really should get that checked out, Tony." He slides a plate of pancakes into front of him and Clint, but it's the almost evil glint in his eyes that has Barton's attention.

"You're up to something."

His face morphs into one of innocence. "What could I possibly be up to, Clint?"

"Oh my God, he's too good at that!" Turning to Tony, who's barely recovered, he leans in, feigning fear. "He's too good at that! Tony! He's poisoned the pancakes! This is how it all ends. It's going dark! I can't breathe!"

Tony pushes him away. "That requires actually eating the pancakes first, jackass."

Theatrics dropped, he shrugs. "It would be the perfect crime. No one would suspect him. He's too pure. Actually," Clint snaps his head over to face Steve, his eyes narrowed, "Cap and I had an interesting conversation recently. 'Jackass' reminded me."

Steve's hand slips into his pocket, and Tony braces himself. "Barton," Steve warns, his voice low, but Tony isn't sure if it's because of Clint's need to tease or because he knows what he's doing to Tony.

"I think Rogers has a freaky side."

Tony jumps slightly as the vibrations start again on the low setting.  _ Freaky indeed.  _ It's not enough to outright make him moan this time, but he feels the pressure building. He tries to sit stock still, tries not to let the toy shift inside him at all. Moaning in front of Barton is just simply out of the question. But his breath is getting heavy as the buzzing - though it hasn't changed in intensity - brings him close to an edge he can't seem to fall over. 

His hands grip the counter of the island, knuckles turning white. Through his teeth, he grits out, "Does he now?" He sends an exasperated glare to Steve. Clint is looking at him quizzically, as if quite suddenly, Tony is the most interesting thing he's ever seen and he needs to figure out exactly what makes him tick. It's unnerving. "Take a picture, Barton," he snaps, "it'll last longer."

Steve is studying him, a slight flush on his cheeks. "You should eat your pancakes, Tony."

With a deep breath, Tony does his best to ignore the incredible sensations within him, and, using his fork as a knife, cuts the pancake to eat. He shoves a large piece into his mouth, which probably isn't smart, but he needs the distraction, and filling his mouth is always a good one.

Clint is  _ still _ staring at him. 

Tony focuses on his plate, carefully chewing and swallowing until there's nothing left. "Well, that was delicious, Cap, but-" The vibrations turn up a notch, Steve sneakily digging into his pocket- "but I, I, uh, I think…" He's so close to giving in. It feels so amazing, and he wants to come so badly, but,  _ fuck, _ he hasn't even lasted an hour yet.

"You should have some milk first." A tall glass is placed in front of him. "Wash down those pancakes. Vitamin D. It's good for you. Good for your bones."

Who knew Steve could be so  _ coy _ . Tony loves it. 

"All right," Clint leans back, hands splayed on the counter, " _ something  _ is going on here." He lifts his right hand and points between the two of them. "What am I missing?" 

Instead of answering, Tony chugs the milk.

Steve ignores Clint's rather astute observation, pouring him a glass of milk as well. "Drink up, Barton."

Narrowing his eyes, Clint knocks back the milk, slamming the glass on the counter when he's done. "You know I'll figure it out."

"Tony," Steve starts, still ignoring Clint, "do you want to go for a walk?"

"A walk?  _ A walk?!" _ Clint sputters, looking back and forth from Tony to Steve. "Is someone's cellphone buzzing?"

That's his cue. Tony stands abruptly. "A walk sounds perfect, let's go,” and he's out the door to the kitchen, heading to the elevator and trying not to waddle.

"Seriously, guys, it's not my phone, whose is it? Guys? Am I hearing things? Tony, you need to check my hearing aids. Guys? Guys!"

The elevator shuts, hiding whatever else Clint is babbling, and Steve presses Tony against the wall, attacking his neck. "You are so hot like this." He lets his tongue run over that spot behind Tony's ear that he's become so fond of. "JARVIS, street level, please." The elevator starts descending.

Tony moans, "I'm losing it, Steve. I almost tapped out."

"How does it feel?" he purrs into Tony's ear, his hands slipping down his waist and into the back of his pants. 

"Fucking amazing. I want to come so badly."

"Is this a good moment to officially ask you to go steady?"

Tony can't help it - despite the pleasure he's feeling, the hardness, the desperate need to finish - he starts to laugh. "Steady? Oh God, you really are adorable." Steve's fingers slip down the crevice of his ass, finding the base of the toy and  _ pushing _ . "Oh, fuck me!" His knees are liable to give out, buckling under, but Steve catches him, pulling his hands from Tony's pants quickly, holding his body close to his. 

"Easy, sweetheart. Don't want to ruin the fun." 

Tony is just getting his feet back under himself when Steve's hand leaves his side and goes right back to that pocket. "Steve!" But he wants it, he does, and he knows that Steve sees it in his eyes, all over his face.

The vibrations click on high, and Tony is almost screaming, his body jerking, legs betraying him. He's clawing at Steve's chest, pulling at his shirt, his hips undulating, desperate for friction. "Oh, God, please, baby,  _ please _ ! Let me come, we can keep playing, but I  _ need _ to come."

Steve tilts his head, his lips a breath away from Tony's. He thinks,  _ mercy, at last!  _ but instead of allowing Tony sweet release, he sings - his voice soft and breathy. " _ I'm a little teapot, short and stout _ …" Tony's hips are rocking harder, the intensity too much, he feels his heart pounding, his fingers hurt from digging into Steve. It's too much, and it's too incredible. " _ Here is my handle, here is my spout! _ " He can't take it. He manages to pry his fingers from Steve's shoulder and shoves his hand down his pants, all set to rip the cock ring off. " _ When I get all steamed up hear me shout: Tip me over and pour me out! _ " The second he brushes against his dick, he's coming. 

_ And it's dry. _

He jerks violently, moaning and panting as the orgasm jolts through him, but it's not enough, it's not the release he needs. "Oh, fuck!" Body shaking, Tony starts to collapse, but Steve's strong arms aren't letting go. 

"Was that an orgasm, Mister Stark?" He smoothly slides his hand down into the jogging pants, coming back up with nothing but a few drops of precome that had somehow escaped. 

"Dry, it was dry. I'll buy a fucking tutu, shit!"

Steve looks impressed, but Tony is twitching, the vibrations still pulsing against his prostate. He studies Tony's face, smiling wickedly. "Game's still on then-" and switches the toy off. 

Tony sags against him. "Who knew?" he mutters into Steve's chest. "Who fucking knew?"

"Knew what, doll?"

"That Captain America is evil."

Steve frowns. "Do you want to stop? It's okay, Tony, I'll take you back to bed and let you finish. You don't even have to sing to Clint."

"No! No, I'm good. I really want to fucking come, but I'm good."

"You're sure?"

He pushes himself up on his toes and takes Steve's lips onto his own. "Absolutely. Love that you're a lady in the streets but a freak in the sheets."

"What?"

"That's a yes, by the way."

Steve pulls back, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Tony slides his arms around Steve's neck, pulling him down for another kiss. "Yes. I will  _ go steady _ with you."

Eyes going wide, Steve looks fit to burst. "Really?"

"Really." Tony pauses, cocking his head to the side and contemplating. They have stayed away from the 'L' word. Most likely to keep Tony from bolting, but all at once he finds himself wondering,  _ why?  _ What is he so afraid of? Why is he so petrified that he'll ruin Steve, break his heart, hurt him? 

He loves Steve. And Steve loves him. There's a million things in the world to worry about and even though his dick is currently trapped with a raging hard-on, he still feels  _ mushy _ . 

It’s safety. It’s security. It's an all encompassing feeling of unconditional adoration. There is never anything to be afraid of, and he's wasted enough time.

"Steve, I love you."

"JARVIS," Steve's eyes look so big and blue, bright like the stars. And happy. His smile widens until he's all teeth and palpable joy. "Take us back to the penthouse."

Tony grins. "No walk?"

"No walk."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at us! So close to the end! Please leave a comment letting me know what you think!


	12. December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celebrating the holidays, Steve and Tony find bliss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this was so late! No excuses here, just got distracted. I'm sorry! 
> 
> Ria Rose - 3136 - K1 - Kink: Anal Sex

Prompt: Kink: Anal Sex

  
  


"What," Steve laughs quietly, both amused and filled with secondhand embarrassment, "are you wearing?"

Tony looks down at the, well, frankly atrocious sweater he has on. It's green, and not like the nice forest green button-down Tony had worn to the Stark Industries Christmas Gala, but an offensive cartoony green. A red felt sleigh sits off kilter in the middle, with tiny red and gold presents (actual 3-D boxes, it's ludicrous, really) wrapped in silver ribbons and jutting out from the equally hideous felt Santa bag on the sleigh. To make it worse, gaudy garland outlines the scene, twirling around glitter snowflakes. 

"It's an ugly Christmas sweater!"

"You got the ugly part right." Turning his back on the seriously grotesque ensemble (he refuses to even mention the red pants), Steve bends down and picks up two heaping shopping bags, depositing them on the kitchen island. "I got everything in your list. Want to tell me what this is about?"

"Three things. First," Tony ticks off each point on his fingers, "I got a sweater for you; it's on the couch. Second, it's Festivus, so we need candy, and third, that," he points to the bags, "is so we can make the candy."

"I'm sorry, what?"

Tony grins devilishly and disappears into the living room, coming back with an Amazon box. "Came this morning. Go on!"

Steve's curiosity, as usual, gets the best of him. He pulls a knife from the block next to the microwave and slits the box open. Inside is, as unfortunately promised, his very own ugly Christmas sweater. Red with garland trees, complete with bulbs that,  _ oh for crying out loud _ , light up. "Tony. No."

"Tony, yes!"

"I thought you loved me?"

"Indubitably!"

Steve cracks a smile at that and begrudgingly pulls the sweater over his t-shirt. "Now, about the fifteen pounds of melting chocolate you had me _ go to Long Island for… _ "

  
  
  
  


Three hours later, they're surrounded by lollipop moulds - Santas, snowmen, and snowflakes - and half empty containers of Rice Krispies, peanuts, raisins, and marshmallows. Two pots on the stove hold water and glass bowls with a layer of dried chocolate in them, and Steve's hands feel stiff and sticky. Tony pulls the last mould from the freezer, setting it on the counter as Steve boxes the last of the chocolate candies in white gift boxes.  _ To Thor,  _ he writes,  _ Love, Tony & Steve.  _

The kitchen is a mess, but there's something strangely satisfying about making their own treats. Tony told him about how his mother did this every year, despite the money and the servants. Her own mother had owned a candy shop in Massapequa, and even after it closed they kept the moulds and would make chocolates for every occasion, though Maria Stark had cut that down to just Christmas. 

Tony showed him how to melt the chocolate and fold in the peanuts and raisins and other add-ins. He showed Steve how to use a spoon to dollop them onto wax paper to make bite size candies, how to spoon the chocolate into the moulds, picking up and dropping them lightly to the table to even it out and get rid of any bubbles. And, hand over hand, how to place the sticks and  _ twirl _ them just so to make lollipops. 

Tony can't cook to save his life, but he sure as hell knows how to make chocolates. 

The kitchen has a sweet smell that nips at the back of Steve's nose and tarts the top of his mouth. They're listening to an oldies Christmas station on satellite, and for once, Tony doesn't complain because  _ these are the songs he grew up on.  _ They're the only acceptable holiday music, and, even if it's not what  _ Steve _ grew up on, the songs are lovely and fun. 

" _ Where the tree-tops glisten and children listen _ ," Tony sings in a raspy baritone, surprisingly melodic, " _ to hear sleigh bells in the snow _ ." He has chocolate at the corner of his mouth where he tasted their creations. Steve kisses it away. Bing Crosby continues to croon as Tony wraps the final lollipop, turning to cup his own sticky hands around Steve's face, pulling his head down to meet his lips. Tony tastes like chocolate, and Steve could kiss him all day.

Wrapping an arm around Tony's waist, Steve pulls one of the hands from his cheek to hold and sways them around the island, dancing to the music. Tony laughs, and the sound is pure, like the jingle bells in front of Macy's on a snowy day, the air muted with the cold, but the bells rising above even the honking of impatient taxis.

"We have to clean up," Tony sighs, gesturing with his head to the counters and island, but he makes no move to cease their waltz. Steve bends his head, nuzzling Tony's neck. 

"Or," he let his voice dip teasingly, "we can go shower first." He smiles against Tony's skin, and kisses the dip above his clavicle. 

"I like the way you think." They dance their way into the bathroom and don't stop until they're both spent. 

  
  
  
  


"Festivus for the rest of us!" Clint is cheering and dancing around an aluminium pole, set standing on a crossed base in the middle of the living room. A black Santa hat is skewed on his head, glittered lettering spelling out  _ Bah Humbug!  _ on the white cotton at the base. He twirls and drops down to one knee, teetering with his arms out. "My dancing! A feat of strength!" 

Tony is giggling into his eggnog. He sits pretzeled in front of the Christmas tree, the colorful lights reflecting off of his olive complexion in twinkles of red, green, and yellow. A piece of tinsel has fallen onto his shoulder, and there’s glitter stuck in his beard. "Does that count?"

Looking affronted, Clint grabs his chest over his heart. "It totally counts!" The offence is lessened by his obvious swaying.

Steve doesn't understand any of this, but seeing his friends so happy and having fun, he keeps quiet about his confusion. He sips two fingers of brandy from a circular glass and spends most of the night with a sappy grin on his face, particularly when his eyes land on Tony. They're celebrating this new holiday today, and tomorrow Tony will show them a traditional Italian Christmas Eve (there's already twelve pounds of prosciutto cooling in the fridge). For Christmas day, Steve has worked with Nat, Bruce, and Clint to create a menu for each mealtime, including a Russian breakfast, a German brunch, and a good old fashion Christmas turkey for dinner. It's three days of celebrating, and Steve has never looked forward to anything more. 

"My friends, I am sorry to say, I still do not understand this tradition." Thor is several glasses deep into Asgardian mead, tipping over slightly. Bruce chuckles and pushes him back up. They're seated on the couch, each in equally ridiculous Christmas sweaters, though Thor's is a bit tight in the shoulders. Tony has a power over all of them; they just can't seem to say no to him.

"It's from a show," Natasha explains from her seat at the bar, her words starting to slur. " _ Seinfeld _ ." Adjusting her reindeer antler headband, she directs her answer to both Thor and Steve. "You get a pole instead of a Christmas tree-"

"-But we have a Christmas tree." Steve weakly gestures to the seven foot tall pine in the corner. 

She ignores him. "And you eat meatloaf on a bed of lettuce-"

"-We had ham." He honestly isn't understanding this at all. Meatloaf and a plate of peas, Tony had said earlier while watching Bruce glaze the ham. 

"Air your grievances-"

"-Okay,  _ that _ we did." Steve trades an amused glance with Tony. That was a fun hour, the complaints mostly made up and asinine, like  _ Tony stole my mojo  _ (from Clint) and  _ Nat drank all the vodka in the entire world  _ (from Tony)! __

"And now we declare Festivus miracles!" She throws her arms up in a flourish, and though she didn't drink all the vodka in the world, the stores behind the bar  _ are  _ looking a little low. 

"And we will still celebrate the Midgardian festival of Christmas?" Standing, Thor tries to stumble over to the barrels of mead he supplied but only ends up falling hard on his bottom and laughing heartily. 

Helping him up, Steve pushes him back onto the couch. "Think maybe you've had enough."

"That! Right there!" Tony exclaims, still sober but caught up with the exuberance of the party. Both hands make a sweeping gesture to Thor. 

"What?" Steve is genuinely confused. Thor's head is tilting to the side, and Steve makes a half attempt to correct it, finally just shoving a holiday themed throw pillow between his head and shoulder to support his neck. He's looking over at Tony, his brows furrowing. 

"That!" Tony points, and Steve turns back to see Thor asleep, the start of rumbling snores just beginning to tumble from his mouth. 

Steve raises his eyes to the ceiling, sighing with a short laugh.  _ This _ is the family he chose. And he loves every second of it. 

"Will someone tell Judy to pipe down?" Natasha fumbles off the stool she's been perched on and giggles. Her cheeks are as red as her sweater. She tries to take a step forward but her knees wobble, and she's left hanging onto the bar. "JARVIS, Jaaaaaaarbis...vis…  _ Shhhhh!"  _ JARVIS dutifully lowers the volume on Judy Garland's  _ Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. _ "Thank you, kind sir."

"You are most welcome, Agent Romanoff."

"JARVIS! Merry Fesss...Festibus!" Her hand shoots out, palm facing forward. "Wait! FestiVUS!" Clint, now laying on the floor on his back, starts cackling. "Shut up! V's are hard!"

"That's what she said!"

Looking at the clock and turning back to Tony, Steve suppresses a grin. "It's late, maybe we should call it a night."

"No!" Clint whines, but it's somewhat lost as he rolls over onto his stomach and the sound gets muffled by the carpet.

"It's almost one," Tony says, standing, "and we have two more days of Christmas cheer. All of you, to bed!" He finally notices the strand of tinsel and plucks it from his sweater, turning to drape it over an ornament. 

"But, mom!" Natasha slides to the floor, sitting on the wooden shelf footrest that juts out from the bottom of the bar. 

The only other one not seventeen sheets to the wind is Bruce, and he stands, stretching and popping his back. "I'll get Clint, you," he points to Steve, "get Thor, and Tony, enjoy the Russian." Tony makes a face but bends down to lift Natasha up by grabbing under her armpits. She giggles again, dropping her face onto Tony's shoulder and breathing in. 

"You smell expensive."

Steve hears Bruce snort as he tries to get Clint up. "Never thought I'd see the day when Nat gets wasted." Steve feels a pang of jealousy as he watches Tony lift Natasha into his arms. They haven't come out to the team yet, though he's positive they suspect (if the knowing looks he and Tony get weren't enough, no matter where they are, there's always a seat left open beside Steve or Tony depending on who sits first. It's sweet - and Steve appreciates it - but unnecessary. They may come out to the team, but SHIELD and the world at large is a whole other story.) It's not anything they've discussed at length; the relationship is still new. He's partially afraid it'll scare Tony away, but in the weeks since they became official, a certain calm has washed over Tony. Maybe it's time to talk about it.

Which is of course when Bruce, dropping Clint's arms for a moment to catch his breath at trying to lift deadweight, leans over to whisper to Steve. "They're like siblings; put your own green monster away." He smiles, showing he means it kindly, and Steve feels the creep of a blush crawling up his neck.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Happy Festivus, Steve!" Bruce says instead, grabbing Clint by the wrists and  _ dragging him _ . 

Steve snorts at the scene in front of him. "Watch his back, Bruce." He pauses, tilting his head to the side. "And thanks. I know."

Tony huffs, glaring at Bruce. "That obvious?"

"Just a bit." Stopping at the doorway to the hallway, Bruce releases Clint's wrists again. They fall to the floor with a comical thud, and Steve winces. "My lips are sealed," Bruce continues. "But I'm happy for you." He squats and tries to shift Clint so he can get him through the doorway without bruising him. Clint groans. 

"Bruce," he whines, "what are you doing?"

"You  _ could _ get up and help me, you know."

"Go away, butt face."

Steve lifts an eyebrow. "Leave him."

That's enough to get Clint moving. He rolls over into his stomach and raises to all fours, crawling down the hallway. Bruce follows, correcting him with his foot when Clint strays too close to the wall like some sort of drunk shepard. 

Grinning at Steve, Tony hoists Natasha up a little higher and follows Bruce out. Now, to get a god to his own bed. 

  
  
  
  


Tony is in his suite making tea when Steve returns from fireman carrying Thor to bed. He holds out a mug, and Steve graciously takes it. It's peppermint, the minty smell teasing at his nose, and Tony has dunked a candy cane in both mugs. "Thanks, angel," Steve murmurs, and Tony's ears go pink. "Oh," he can feel his own face heat up. "If you don't like that, I won't-"

Tony cuts him off with a kiss. "I love it. But I'm no angel, Steven." He moves toward the couch, but Steve catches his forearm and pulls him back. 

"You're  _ my _ angel."

"Sap." 

Chuckling quietly, Steve kisses his forehead. "Your tree looks beautiful." In the living room they share with the others, Tony had let the team decorate in haphazard style. Mismatching ornaments, garland and tinsel, candy canes of varying flavors, bright colorful lights, and a multicolored star at the top. It's beautiful in its own way, traditional enough that Steve feels a wave of nostalgia looking at it. But  _ Tony's _ tree… 

Tony's tree is covered in coordinating ornaments, red, gold, silver, and green. The lights are white, and ribbons of garland are wrapped in cascading red plaid, with large silk poinsettias jutting out. Fake snow covered pine-cones hang over the bows. On top of the tree sits a blonde angel in a white and gold dress, her hands out and holding two tiny candles lit up with LED lights. 

Tony looks at his tree, a small smile playing at his lips. The lights reflect in his dark eyes, and Steve turns the overhead lights off, letting the tree illuminate the room. He sits at the corner of the couch, right next to the tree, and pats the cushion next to him. Holding his mug out of the way, he waits until Tony is settled, his legs hooked over Steve's, before taking a sip and humming appreciably. He loves the feel of Tony's body on his, the way the muscles move against his and how his warmth amplifies when his skin is in contact with Steve's. They both hate being cold; bad memories and arc reactors, things that couldn't be fixed until the first time they lay together in bed, a discarded vibrator hiding under a sock. Tangles of limbs and kisses, blankets tucked around shoulders, pillows squashed under heads and elbows. It was the first time Steve had ever felt warm enough. A month into the relationship, he knows he never has to worry about ever being cold like that again. 

They sit like that, pressed together on the couch, finishing their tea and looking at the Christmas tree. Steve adores the wonder in Tony's eyes, and though he knows Tony isn't a believer, he's acutely aware that religious or not,  _ there's something about Christmas. _

"J," Tony says softly, "play some soothing holiday music. Something quiet."

JARVIS doesn't respond, but the smooth sounds of Nat King Cole's  _ The Christmas Song _ flows from the speakers in the wall. All aglow in the ethereal light from the tree, Tony really does look like an angel, and Steve feels his heart swell. 

This is it for him. He knows it beyond any doubt. And he knows that Tony feels the same way. All the years searching, floundering for love and connection has come to this. It's incredible. 

Months of pining, the arguments, the mistakes… It has all culminated to this: completion, happiness, hope. Steve doesn't need a gift under the tree, he doesn't need Santa to bring him one more trinket that can collect dust on his dresser. He's already received the greatest gift imaginable. 

True love that comes in a tiny, spitfire package with big brown eyes and lips he can't help but kiss. 

Steve leans forward, taking Tony's empty mug and setting it on the coffee table next to his, and kisses him. It's soft and full of promises, and Tony smiles openly. "Come on," Steve says, pulling Tony up with him and standing. He leads him to the tree. 

"What?" But Tony stands, letting Steve guide him. The open trust in his eyes is confounding and wonderful. 

"I love you.  _ So much. _ "

Tony smiles, and it's a bit shy, his eyes dropping bashfully. It's adorable. "I love you too."

"Good, because you got me for life. Despite the ugly sweater." 

That brings a startled laugh from Tony. He rises to his tip toes, slipping his arms around Steve's neck, and kisses him. "Or because of it!"

Steve's hands, fitted against Tony's hips, slide up under his sweater. "I don't think so." He takes a moment to suck on the skin right below Tony's jawline, relishing in the soft moans he elicits from Tony's throat. He pulls back and tugs the sweater and shirt up over Tony's head, letting them fall to the floor before going back to that same spot. The best present is the one he gets to unwrap over and over again.

"Steve…" Tony breathes out, hands fumbling for the bottom of Steve's sweater, finally finding purchase and lifting. Steve pauses long enough to rid himself of the sweater and dives back into Tony's neck, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses down to his shoulder. He's not sure how, but he swears he can still taste chocolate on the smooth skin. His hands make quick work of the button and zipper on Tony's pants and then his own. 

Tony fumbles, kicking his shoes off and pulling the legs of the pants off one by one. When they're finally naked, he presses himself along the soldier's body, taking his lips onto his own and sliding his tongue into his mouth. The moment Steve feels the warmth against him, he feels his heart jump at just how lucky he is. Closing his eyes and leaning into the kiss, Steve lets his own tongue run against Tony's and sucks on it. He feels the genius tremble, his cock hard against Steve's leg. 

Stepping back, Steve takes in the beautiful man before him, running his hands down Tony's sides, up his abdomen and chest, over his nipples, and across the arc reactor, the steady blue clashing with the red tinted ambience of the tree. Tony shivers, his eyes so dark in the dim light they look like two pieces of glittering coal staring back at him. He lets his hands trail back down, one coming to rest at his hip, and the other wrapping around his length, smoothly stroking him from base to tip. Slowly, as his hand closes over the head, Tony's eyes flutter shut. His own hands rise to grip Steve's biceps, a breathy moan tumbling from his mouth. He's so beautiful like this, and Steve takes a second to drink in the visage of his very own angel. He is breathtaking.

Letting go of Tony's cock, Steve smiles at Tony’s whine and guides him to the floor, laying him on the thick carpeting at the base of the Christmas tree. He allows himself a moment to kiss down Tony's chest and admire the play of colors on his skin, the way every movement Tony makes has them tangoing across his abdomen, his navel, his groin. It's like a quiet symphony, a song with no sound. He doesn't know how, but Tony is something unexplainable. Something that makes no sense but twines together into an artistic harmony of the unexpected. "Don't move, angel. I'll be right back." One last kiss and he's on his feet, hurrying to Tony's bedroom to retrieve the lube. The moment he returns, he almost comes, his cock jumping at the sight in front of him. Tony has  _ that much _ of an affect on him.

He's on his back, legs bent and wide. His hands, trailing down his inner thighs, rubbing at the crevices that connect them to his torso, fingers dipping and exploring his own curves. With each pass, his hips rock slightly, head turned to the side. Panting. Eyes closed. He slides his hands down to the contour of his ass, letting his fingers lightly tease over his hole and moans. "Steve...!"

"God, Tony." It's all Steve can get out as he falls to his knees, crawling between Tony's legs and leaning to kiss him deeply. He has never felt love like this. 

Tony's hands come up to caress the back of Steve's head, fingers sluicing through the blond locks. He cranes his neck up, crashing their lips together. "Please, baby. I need you."

He knows that desperate tone always wrecks Steve, knows that he can arch his back and give him  _ those eyes _ and Steve will be putty. It's only been a few months, and they already know how to push each other's buttons. 

Bracing his hands on either side of Tony's head, he dips his hips, slotting their erections together and grinding down. He can turn Tony to mush just as effectively, and Tony  _ keens,  _ head falling back as he raises his hips to generate the friction they both need. 

Steve sputters, eyes falling closed. "You're a menace." 

He feels Tony's hands slip around his neck and the pressure to bend his neck down, but he doesn't fight it, just opens his mouth and lets Tony suck at his tongue. A throaty groan tumbles from his mouth into Tony's. The way he tastes, it's like ambrosia. He could live off of Tony and survive forever, like the Greek gods. Immortal in the love he feels. Tony is his core, hot like the center of the earth moving below them. Below him. Undulating and fiery. Untameable. 

Steve's fingers find the bottle of lube that had rolled away in the fervor of their kiss. It's quick to open, and quick to coat his digits, but he takes his time. The way Tony feels on the inside is like the heat of a thousand suns. All flame and passion, and he crooks his finger up against his prostate, watching in awe as Tony's responsive body arches and lifts, supported by his head and tailbone. 

"Please!"

He's so gone, so enamored with Tony already, how can he say no? Coating his cock, he slides in, groaning at the feeling of Tony's rim as it contracts around him. It's more than feeling like he's home, it's like they're healing. Like the intimacy of their sex is the gold used to seal the cracks and broken pieces of themselves and each other. Their very own  _ Kintsugi _ . Broken and put back together to be made more beautiful than before. 

Tony gasps, clinging to Steve as his legs clamp around Steve's waist. His hands - his beautiful  _ working _ hands, all rough and calloused, scarred with silver lines and burns, still so alluring - drag up Steve's back, leaving red marks on their wake. Up his neck to cup the back of Steve's head. His own neck is tilted up, mouth open as his moans pour from him like a dam destroyed. 

Steve's hips rock in well practiced motion, angling to send sparks of powerful pleasure through Tony. He feels the heat build between them, his own arousal augmenting. "Tony," he heaves, his voice breathy and shaking, " _ God, Tony! _ " Bracing on his forearms, Steve let's his head drop down beside Tony's, inhaling and exhaling right next to his ear. Tony whimpers, rearing his body upwards to rut against Steve's abdomen, his erection leaking and red. He leaves trails of precome smeared against Steve's silky white skin. 

It's almost too much to comprehend, how fiercely he loves Tony, and seeing him like this - writhing beneath him, dressed only in the lights of the Christmas tree - has Steve overwhelmed. His hand slides along the carpet and behind Tony's head, steadying him so he can devour Tony's mouth. Biting at his lower lip, Steve lets his body rest on Tony's, giving him the weight needed to thrust his cock upwards, chasing his release. Tony trembles with each pass against Steve, his cock so full he's almost sobbing with need. 

"Steve,  _ Steve _ , please!"

"My angel," he sighs, feeling his body tighten with expectation, "come for me." He's able to rest his weight on his left arm and bring his right in between their bodies, wrapping his hand around Tony's cock and jerking in time with every push and pull within Tony. 

It doesn't take long. Tony is wound tight enough he's fit to burst. Steve flicks his thumb over the tip, and it's enough. Legs shaking, Tony comes, his cock pulsing stream after stream, slicking Steve's hand, making him slip faster along the length. His head falls to the floor, mouth going slack as his eyes roll back, hips jutting with the force. He clenches around Steve, taking him in deeper. 

"Oh," Steve gasps, rocking quicker. He's so close, so near the edge. He wants to fill Tony,  _ needs to. _ He wants him so full he's leaking for the rest of the night, something for Steve to sloppily clean up with his tongue. 

Body quaking, Tony slides his fingers through Steve's hair and _ pulls _ , crashing his lips against Steve's, kissing him with every ounce of strength he has left, and Steve jolts, hips stilling as his orgasm hits,  _ filling _ Tony with his spend. He feels it push out the sides, dripping off his testicles, knows it's falling down Tony's crevice, and he lets out a throaty moan, pulling back and shoving back inside. Plunging into Tony until his erection had waned. 

He pulls out gently, cupping Tony's face as he does so. "Tony," he breathes, nuzzling his nose against Tony's, "Merry Christmas, my angel. I love you."

Tony's eyes shine, the lights from the tree turning liquid within them. He presses his forehead against Steve's. "I love you."

"Are you happy you took a chance on me?"

Tony grins. "Indubitably."

Steve laughs. He can't wait to grow old with Tony by his side, to take walks in Central Park, and make chocolates every year during the holiday season. He can't wait to fight with him. To make up with him. To love him until the world crumbles away to nothing,  _ and even then. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left! Let me know if you've enjoyed!


	13. Epilogue: January Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! This is the end! I hope you all enjoyed! 
> 
> I'd like to take a moment to once again thank my betas, Rachel and Lan, and my cheer readers, Wilmakins and Jarisalive, and all of you who supported this and read it! 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> Ria Rose - 3136 - S1 - Soul bond (I definitely didn't realize this was supposed to be a soulmate AU until after I wrote it, but I hope you like the prompt anyway!)

Prompt: Soulbond

"All right, all right! Shut your pie holes!"

Tony snorts into his champagne, looking up from his seat at the dining room table at Steve. He's standing, his own flute raised, looking around the table at his teammates and friends. The Avengers, Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy, all dressed in their evening best. On the table sits their New Year's Day meal, a pork loin, asparagus, roasted potatoes, and baby carrots, all prepared by Bruce and Steve. The smell is heavenly, coalesced with the scent of fresh baked dinner rolls and a hint of the candles lit at either end. 

The chatter dies away as the attention falls on Steve. He smiles at them, meeting each of their eyes one at a time before landing on Tony's. 

"I'd like to make a toast to the New Year. To friends, to found family, and to new love." There's a murmur through the group, and they stare openly at Tony then at Steve. "We figured you all knew. So, might as well make it official." If at all possible, he's grinning even wider, and Tony feels the ghost of a blush crawl up his neck. Standing, he takes Steve's hand. 

"Don't look so surprised."

Natasha huffs, trading a glance with Clint, who sits next to her. He grunts and pulls out his wallet, slapping a fifty into her hand. She nods at him and turns back to Steve and Tony. "Not surprised. Just shocked you guys actually came out."

"Closet too small for you, Cap?" Clint jokes, earning him an elbow to the ribs from Natasha. 

"It was a very cozy closet," Steve sasses right back, leaning forwards a little and lifting an eyebrow, "and we made a rather comfy home. But what's the fun in that if we can't have friends over to visit?"

"Sounds less complicated to me." Tony chuckles, gesturing to the table. "Look at these delinquents!"

Pepper groans, balling up her napkin and tossing it at Tony. "Who are you calling delinquent?"

"All in good company, I assure you."

Steve bumps his shoulder, his eyes dancing. "Hush, you." He bends his head and kisses him sweetly, going a bit red at the whooping from the others. "Anyway!" He tries to speak over the ruckus, but honestly, Steve should know with this group it's like herding cats. Tony quirks an eyebrow, trying not to laugh as Steve fights to regain some sort of control over the noise. 

"Come on, already! We're starving!" Happy shouts out. 

Pounding a fist onto the table, Clint proclaims, "Hear! Hear!"

Tony leans over to stage-whisper to Steve using an absolutely horrible impersonation of Rodney Dangerfield, complete with tugging on his tie. "Tough crowd." He'll tell anyone who will listen that it's the best one he does.

It's not.

Giving up on diplomacy, Steve uses his Captain voice. "Chatter!" There's a slew of laughter, but they all settle down once again. "As I was saying. To a New Year! I wish for the safety of my family," he dips his glass at the Avengers, "happiness for my friends," this time to Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy, "and all the love in the world to the man who somehow found it within himself to love me in return."

He's blushing outright now, and Tony has to swallow before he is able to talk. "I could say the same. For once in my life, I am fully, completely, wonderfully content." Each day with this family, with Steve by his side, he feels the pieces of his battered soul bond back together. Somehow, he knows, everything is finally as it should be. 

He's graced with a smile before Steve turns back to the group, lifting his hand up higher. "Many happy returns, my friends.

"It's been a hell of a year."

The end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you've enjoyed! Please consider leaving a comment!


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